Z is for Zulu
by PointlessArrow
Summary: Every decisive moment has an echo. It's just a tad bit problematic when the echo disrupts your 100-year nap...
1. Prologue: Not Yet

_**A/N:** The personalities of some characters are inspired by other canons, but the story takes place in its own universe. You also might see some references to other stories (such as Belated Battleships and the famous Rulebook), but again I have no intentions of following them._

 _This is also the first time I've tried writing something of this length-feel free to critique it and/or correct any glaring historical inaccuracies._

 _It's also being updated regularly on SpaceBattles as well if you lurk there. I also didn't mention a list of characters in the thread since a lot of ship girls make cameos or play important roles at different parts of the story._

* * *

 ** _Prologue: Not Yet_**

* * *

The salty sea breeze stung her eyes as she looked out across the entrance of Tokyo Bay. It had been a long time since she had been home at Yokosuka, but this time would be her last.

She tried not to think about too deeply about her imminent demise. From a leader's standpoint it was perfectly understandable; she wasn't the powerful goddess of war that she had been in her youth. It had been decades since her last real scrap with the country's enemies. She could barely remember the din of battle, the furious gnashing of teeth as gunners scrambled to bring her guns to bear and officers swearing at the shells screaming overhead.

The smile that came to her lips at the remembrance of such memories faded back into a stiff upper lip as another gust of wind quickly brought her back to reality. Since her glorious hour, Japan had constructed several newer, faster, and to be quite frank _superior_ ships than herself. What she could barely even hope to reach with her horrifically dated coincidence rangefinders was spitting distance for her newer counterparts. Yet not even that was enough to save them from the death sentence that also awaited her. From the corner of her eye she could see the drydock where one of her successors-to-be dwelt in her berth, deep in sleep, never to awake. A tragedy it was that the people who beckoned them to answer the call to battle were also the same ones to condemn to oblivion.

"Tea, dess?" A small porcelain cup entered her field of vision. "We Vickers ships should stick together, whatever the weather!" the spritely brunette tittered as she affectionately patted her on the back.

She curtly nodded and accepted in the invitation. Under normal circumstances she would consider it impolite to not face the deliverer of such a treat, but she didn't need to look up to know who was the owner of voice ever-so-slightly-English-accented Japanese. It was the spritely young battlecruiser, and the last of her-no _their_ -kind. Now that the country had its own capable shipwrights and shipyards, there was no need to send orders abroad to England to construct ships, and her native-built colleagues had no interest in speaking in an unfamiliar tongue.

Of course, it hadn't always been that way…

* * *

 _It had been first day in her new home, and not a day too soon. Traveling across the world had worn her out, and she could almost **kill** for food and rest._

 _Actually, scratch that, she couldn't; no doubt uttering that phrase in front of her new comrades would be scandalous. She was a Japanese-ordered ship for the Imperial Japanese Navy; that she was built in an English shipyard was-_

 _"DON'T CALL ME MUMMY, YA GIT!" roared a deep voice as a girl scurried past down the hall, giggling like a maniac and giving the newcomer no notice. There was an audible sigh from the office that the mischief-maker had ran out from._

 _"Sorry about that Fuji, I swear 'Shiki is harder to reign in than Katherina herself."_

 _"She's young yet," came a soft voice. "Give her time to acclimate."_

 _"Asahi, a reminder that she is older than you," growled yet another voice. "The reasoning that she hasn't 'gotten used to Japan' yet is complete codswallop."_

 _"I say," grunted the first voice, "If the newcomer is anything like Shikishima I am personally shipping her back to England in-" a short, stout woman peeped out from the office and promptly gazed straight at her._

 _"Oh. Hello there."_

 _Two more faces immediately emerged from the doorway. The first of the two gazed at her with curiosity and gave a shy wave. The other glared at her sternly, yet gracefully. There was no doubt that of three judging her in that moment that she was the leader._

 _Her theory was proven correct when said stern gazer immediately approached her with a firm hand held out in greeting._

 _"I am Yashima, the younger sister of Fuji. I have been explicitly designated as command ship of the fleet should we be ever be sent out to do our duty and protect this country. In the meantime we have two rules." Yashima promptly grabbed her by the collar._

 _"One. No frolicking. Absolutely no frolicking whatsoever. Not even in your dreams. One childish battleship is enough. Clear?"_

She nodded.

 _"Two. You will help us put on a Shakespearean play for the destroyers. Tonight. 6 o'clock. Understood?"_

 _It took all of her strength not to giggle. Asahi on the other hand was unable to restrain herself, and immediately fell to the floor laughing. Even Fuji, the woman who had gave her an ominous threat, sent Yashima a 'Seriously?' look._

 _Yashima shrugged. "What? I think English is brilliant. I know we're supposed to be speaking mostly Japanese now since that's the language our superiors will be speaking in, but come on. Shakespeare! Charles Dickens! You can't expect me to just pretend they don't exist?!"_

* * *

"Heeey, did you like the brew?"

It wasn't until she was on the last sip that she realized the nature of the tea she had been drinking. It was strong, stronger than anything she had prepared or smelled in a long time.

It was black tea. English tea.

She couldn't recall what happened, but one moment she was savoring the remnants of her tea and the next she was sobbing, burying her face in the battlecruiser's chest for comfort.

"Now, now," the battlecruiser soothed as she shakily tried to wipe the tears off her friend's face. "Quiet, please." Her fingers rapped impatiently as she tried to find a way to distract the ship from her woes.

"Tell me a story, dess!" Her friend looked up, though she was still silently crying.

"Tell you a story? Shouldn't be in the other way around?"

"Noooo! It's not every day that a ship runs off with a dashing admiral into the sunset, fights off an entire fleet, and live to tell the tale!"

The absurdity of the battlecruiser's claim had the desired effect. The sniffling subsided slightly and was shortly thereafter replaced with a faint giggle.

"One, I didn't 'run off with him', he was assigned to me. Two, I didn't fight off that fleet alone."

"Oh, but he _liked_ you and made you his flagship!" The battlecruiser clasped her hands together and sighed dreamily. "One day I will show my commander my _burning_ love, and he cannot escape me!"

Her friend was certain, perhaps _slightly_ certain, that a shower of sparks rained down upon them at that very moment the battlecruiser demonstrated an example of her "burning love".

"I hope for your sake and mine that your love is not literally _burning_. Mind you, if you burned him, there would be nothing left of him," she deadpanned. Much to her concern, the battlecruiser seemed to actually _ponder_ whether or not it was a good idea before nodding vigorously.

"Now, storytime, dess!"

At that moment a bell chimed in the distance. It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

 _The Diet should be done explaining the terms of treaty to the Navy by now,_ she thought, unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists. _No, she's right. There's no point in thinking about it now. Whatever happens, happens._

She cleared her throat. "This is a story that I heard Admiral share with the captain during his studies abroad. There was once a vice-admiral in the English navy who was given orders to encourage the Danes into entering an alliance by defeating the Danish navy surrounding their capital, Copenhagen…"

* * *

"…and so he landed in Copenhagen to speak with Crown Prince. Needless to say the populace was none too happy at his intrusion, but he succeeded where his superior thought he could not. All by turning a blind eye to his superior's orders."

"And indeed, one of Nelson's finer moments."

The two turned around and were promptly greeted by the sight of an elderly mustachioed man approaching them. Even though he was not dressed in the conventional attire of the Japanese navy, there was no doubt to who he was.

"Gensui!" the battlecruiser saluted. The officer promptly saluted her back.

"That will do, Kongō. I appreciate you keeping her in good company while the Navy was given the…less than agreeable terms of the treaty. It is good to know who your friends are in times of uncertainty." Both of them shared uneasy glances as the ship in question turned her gaze forlornly back to the sea.

"It is best that I speak with her privately," he said gently. "Too many people might give her anxiety."

Kongō internally debated giving him a knowing glance but decided against it. Even she knew that there was a time and place for such jokes. Before she would leave them in peace, however, there was one last question that was a burning a hole in her mind.

"Gensui, about the treaty. Are the four of us…" she began, but he immediately nodded.

"It seems like it was a close call, but signers agreed that you and your sisters can remain in service. That said, there are some that didn't make it," he said grimly.

The battlecruiser's eyes widened and looked entreatingly at her friend, before sighing sadly and walking away. Only the officer and Kongō's friend remained on the ledge overlooking Tokyo Bay.

The silence was deafening. For what seemed like hours neither of them spoke.

"I feel sorry for her."

He looked up and realized she was referring to the battleship sitting silently on the stocks at the distant shipyard and sighed.

"It was inevitable given the terms of the treaty. The delegates fought tooth and nail against the 'battleship holiday' proposal and even then ships such as Mutsu barely escaped the cutter's torch. Kaga was a forgone conclusion."

She paused momentarily before giving him a hopeful look.

"You mentioned 'battleship holiday'…does that mean-?"

"I'm afraid not. The Navy was given explicit orders to scrap, destroy, or eliminate existing battleships as well until it met the terms of the treaty."

At that news her anxiety returned.

"Ikoma?"

"To be disarmed and then scrapped."

"Katori? Kashima?"

"Likewise."

"'Tsu?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Satsuma? I thought you hated her."

"As much as I despise that _pretentious_ hag, even _I_ wouldn't celebrate her demise."

There was a brief chuckle at her disparaging remark before being replaced by a wry smile. "The Navy didn't think so either. They're planning on using her as gunnery practice for the newer ships."

He could almost the sound of her jaw dropping to the ground in disbelief.

"Then I guess…there's no hope…" her voice trailed off. "Did Fuji even make it?"

The only thing he could do was slowly shake his head in denial. "They've already started removing her armament."

"I guess this is what they call 'the changing of the guard.'"

For the first time in their entire conversation she passed him a sidelong glance. It never ceased to amaze him how graceful she looked even when the situation permitted her to indulge in her true emotions. Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to her the moment she appeared to him on that dreadful winter morning eighteen years ago.

"Look at you now," she continued, flicking his epaulettes. "You are just as helpless as I am. Once upon a time even the Emperor deferred to your decisions. Now? You would be hard pressed to have a minister lend you his ears, let alone discuss your concerns."

"That does not surprise me. I was never into politics even when I had the qualifications for it. It is a place where a man's career goes to die an infamous death."

She flinched at the word "death."

"Admiral…how old are you now?"

"All these years and you still don't remember, eh? This past January was my 74th."

"Then I suppose you have made peace with the fact that you will die sooner rather than later." She sighed as he nodded in confirmation. "Then so must I. Twenty years is long enough for an old tub like me."

"Not yet."

She froze at the sound of those two words, and then it dawned upon her.

"The Navy would be a fool to let the Heroine of Tsushima die such an inglorious death," he remarked, his smile growing at every word. "No, my dear battleship, the delegates fought harder than Takamori at Shiroyama, and the other powers listened. Under the provisions of the Washington Naval Treaty, you'll be preserved as a memorial ship. You've been saved."

Wordlessly, the battleship embraced him in an inescapable bear hug.

"Thank you, Admiral Tōgō."

"No, thank _you,_ Mikasa. It was the least I could do."


	2. The Homecoming: One Day

**A/N:** This was originally an introductory chapter but ended being expanded into a full blown 7-part introductory arc. They'll be posted on a regular basis every week.

* * *

 _A Few Years Later, 1926  
_  
Tōgō sat down and sighed, giving his legs some much needed rest. His age was catching up to him much faster than he had expected.

Not that it really mattered, for in the moment he had the most scenic view. A forest of young trees neatly outlined the leftmost extremes of the plaza he sat in, and the blue waters of Tokyo Bay his right.

Of course, neither of the two was the reason why he had made an effort to travel to Yokosuka this morning.

"You must be quite proud. _Mikasa_ served the nation with honor, if I say so myself," the officer beside him commented as the two of them watched a procession of children march by to the tune of "Kimigayo."

"Indeed," he returned quietly. "I am sure that Mikasa would be quite proud to know that the public she fought to protect is celebrating her grand opening as a memorial ship today."

"You talk as if these ships are human, Tōgō," the officer laughed, "though I am glad that the pre-dreadnought has become a part of the National Spirit. With our future so uncertain, it is good to have something to remind us of the importance of perseverance."

The Marquis didn't respond to the officer's remarks. There was a clear generational gap between Isoroku and himself, in spite of the two sharing a service record at Tsushima Strait. The young officer had taken an educational tour in the United States rather than Britain, and unlike Tōgō had also been a vocal and open proponent for the Washington Naval Treaty.

He pictured Mikasa's face if she heard Isoroku's remarks, even if they were on something as harmless as English culture, and started chuckling uncontrollably.

"Something funny?" Isoroku inquired curiously.

"Nothing," the Admiral responded, wiping a tear from his eye as he reminded himself that the officer was completely unaware of the spirits housed with the Navy's steel hulls.

"Ah," he nodded. "That reminds me, would you be up for a game of Shogi?"

"You brought a board?"

Tōgō glanced at the battleship one last time as Isoroku began setting up the pieces. He hadn't seen Mikasa at all amongst the crowd that gathered along her deck that day, but decided not to worry. He was sure that one day they would meet again.

* * *

 **The Homecoming  
**

* * *

 _Many Years Later..._

For many residents of Yokosuka, wintertime was a mixed blessing. On one hand, the cold weather and poor domestic insulation meant that it was the perfect time to laze about within the safety of the household kotatsu. On the other hand, it made staying outside for prolonged periods of time extremely uncomfortable.

Fast battleship Kongō, the resident dessboat of Yokosuka Naval Base, was discovering this extremely inconvenient fact. Under normal circumstances, kanmusu such as herself, as the reincarnated spirits of their old seafaring forms, would pay little attention to the inclement weather. Though physically they strikingly resembled the humans they had sworn to protect, internally they were still pure machinery, relying on the efficiency of their equipment and fairy crews to function. This meant that her eleven water-tube boilers were burning quite nicely, emitting enough warmth that wearing a jacket was rather redundant.

Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same about the precious cargo she was carrying.

"Shit!" she swore as a probing poke at the thermos revealed that its contents were quite tepid. As a fast battleship, she had several options available at her disposal. The first was to run back to base, warm up the thermos's contents, re-secure the thermos in a well-insulated carton for better heat retention, and restart her journey. The second was to find a local resident or shopkeeper and ask them to warm it up for her. The third was to cram it in her engine room where it could be kept boiling hot guaranteed until arrival.

As practical as the first and second choices were, she rejected them. It was an extremely rare event that something catastrophic was _not_ happening on base, and the last thing she needed was witnessing a rage-inducing event that ruined her day. Besides, it would be incredibly inconvenient having to walk all the way to the base's mess when there were closer options. Even though it would be easy to simply knock on one of the many doors lining the streets surrounding her, she really wasn't in the mood for idle conversation either.

She tapped the side of her head and a fairy scurried out. At the casual wave of her thermos-carrying left hand, said fairy grabbed the metallic canister, clambered over her radar headset, and promptly scurried back through Kongō's ear. It would be slightly inconvenient manner of warming the tea housed within the thermos, but she would arrive _on time_ for tea.

This wasn't just any tea time, it was _tea time._ More specifically, this tea time was held without all the fanfare and discussion she normally gave tea time on base. With the abyssals relenting to regroup after their major losses in the Autumn Campaign and Goto away on a very important mission on Hokkaido, this was prime time to talk to a very important person, a person that she hadn't talked to in decades.

"I've arrived!" she cooed in delight as her destination loomed into view. Mikasa Park was usually teeming with visitors, but it was closed to the general public until springtime. Not that Kongō was particularly upset by that revelation; it meant that she had the entire park to herself.

Well, to herself and a certain pre-dreadnought who lent the park its name.

"Heeeeyyyyy!"

Make that just an energetic fast battleship in an empty park.

"Heeyyyy…" she called out less confidently as only the sound of Tokyo Bay and the howling winter winds answered her.

At that moment a fairy tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a thumbs up. Her tea was nice and hot, perfect for teatime. The fast battleship's eyes lit up. She had almost forgotten the special gambit up her sleeve. This time, she wouldn't lose!

"Hey, Mikasa-san! I brought black tea!" The thermos danced tauntingly before the grey-clad battleship looming ominously yet silently over the park. Much to Kongō's frustration, no matter how silly and persuasively she swung the prized English drink about, she received no response. Not even a dramatic rendition of _The Importance of Being Earnest_ (featuring quality "English" accents) drew anything more than a soft groan of the pre-dreadnought's hull straining under the present weather conditions.

Kongō sighed in defeat. All she wanted was to share a cuppa with her old mentor; surely that wasn't too much to ask?

She consoled herself with the prospect of at least snacking with the pre-dreadnought. True, it would be far less engaging than conversing with her personally, like they had shortly before Mikasa's memorialization, but Kongō knew deep down inside that the battleship would be listening whether she liked it or not. It was now time to punish her tutor for her spiritual absence.

"Mikasa-san! If you don't come out now, the party's going to start without you~!"

And start the party did. It was an event fit for the Queen herself. First came the famed Yokosuka tea table built from English oak, complete with matching chairs, which she conveniently placed to the port side of the battleship. From there her fairies worked like clockwork to produce plate after plate of scones and sandwiches. Finally, her officers proudly presented their Anglo-Japanese masterpiece: Kongō's prized tea set. She had many tea sets set aside for that purpose (in case someone was careless enough to disturb _her_ teatime), but this one was designated for use only when she snacked with Admiral Goto. No doubt her commander would forgive her for her indiscretion on this occasion.

The teapot gave a shrill cry as it distributed its contents into two awaiting porcelain cups (she was no savage, she had poured the tea from the thermos into the teapot first of course!), which Kongō placed at either end of the table. After giving the opposing teacup a cheerful clink, she dug into her midday snack.

"If you only you knew what you were missing out on, dess!" she said, winking at the vacant chair. "Hiei finally learned how to cook!" At this exclamation she put a thoughtful finger on her chin. "Maybe it was because Kirishima was around to supervise her…"

* * *

"...and so she passed out like a light! Poor Hayasui, she should have known that trying to outdrink the little destroyer so quickly would have done her in!"

"I must confess, that _does_ sound like a recipe for disaster."

Kongō whirled about so quickly she nearly sent the table and its remaining contents onto the floor. Much to the fast battleship's disappointment, it was not the pre-dreadnought that she desired to converse with but a young bright-eyed JMSDF officer, her black hair tidied neatly in a bun beneath the brim of her black cap.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, but I overheard your storytelling and couldn't resist chiming in."

"No problem," she replied cheerfully, beckoning to the vacant seat opposite her. Internally, Kongō was slightly irritated that her plans had been interrupted, but it was nice to have company that was willing to talk.

"May I?" The officer pointed at an upset sandwich to which Kongō nodded. Without further ado she began nibbling on her small meal.

"What brings a shrine maiden such as yourself to Mikasa Park?"

It took a great amount of effort for Kongō not to cast the newcomer an incredulous look. For better or for worse, the Kongō sisters were well-known throughout the JMSDF for their special sense of dress, to say nothing of their frequent deployment and success against the Abyssals. That she was not recognized instantly was most…unusual to say the least. Then again, her party crasher was probably fresh out of the academy. The officer lacked the jaded expression of her veteran counterparts and was extremely approachable.

"Oh, just paying my respects to my teacher."

Unlike Kongō, the officer was unable to restrain her own disbelief.

"T-t-teacher?!" she spluttered, before immediately returning to a more passive expression. "Ah, he served aboard the Mikasa at some point?"

"I guess you could say that," Kongō replied, unwilling to give an explanation now about the former and current lives of kanmusu to a person oblivious to their very existence. "She- _he_ -was quite the cosmopolite," she remarked, giving the officer her best British impression, "and incredibly patient and wise."

"All of which are sterling values," the officer nodded in approval. "I suppose I should give my own reasons for coming," she sighed as the fast battleship looked at her expectantly, "especially since you clearly had a noble reason and were courteous enough to share." Without further ado a well-disguised crutch unceremoniously smacked itself against the table.

"Before this… present trouble on the seas began, I was diagnosed with a terminal condition which required a life-saving operation. Unfortunately, when I came to, I was told I could never walk again," she laughed dryly. "Personally, I'm grateful for the procedure, but sometimes I find myself wishing I could move under my own power. That's why I've been practicing with these," bringing up the crutch's counterpart, "as well as coming here. You know the story of the _Mikasa_ , no doubt?"

* * *

 _"_ _WHAT IS THAT RUBBISH?" Fuji roared._

 _"_ _Ah, oh dear, my ears," Asahi cradled her head._

 _"_ _A little softer and a little smoother," Mikasa corrected, shutting her right eye in mild annoyance. "Your English sounds like the spawn of a drunken Scotsman and the former American president at the moment."_

 _"_ _But 'Teddy has such a charismatic voice!" she wailed. "And the Scottish sound charming!"_

 _"_ _Former President Theodore Roosevelt," Mikasa chided her. "Don't ever let Connecticut hear you call him 'Teddy. Besides, that's not the English way," she tutted, taking pause momentarily to pour the two of them another cuppa. "Victoria or King Edward's the ticket."_

* * *

Kongō nodded, resisting the urge to frantically shake the officer's head and shout, "She studied every commander in the world, schooled me in English literature, and even tried teaching me English before she left the navy! I know more about her than you will ever know!"

"Well," the officer smiled, "then you can understand how I have hope. No matter what the odds, it can be done."

There was a momentary pause as each processed the other's statements, or in Kongō's case…

"It's…dusk?" she croaked as light from the setting sun temporarily blinded her vision.

Then it hit her. She had been gone for hours. Admiral Goto would be returning from his trip later that night, and if something had happened in her absence…

"I must go now," Kongō burst out, hurriedly packing her belongings. "Forgive me for cutting our conversation short."

"No problem," the officer replied serenely, giving her a halting salute. "Until we meet again."

* * *

Much to her relief, the base was still visibly in one piece upon her approach. The absence of smoking buildings and terrified screaming reinforced her notion that for once the base _could_ get its act together _and_ avoid a surprise enemy attack on the same day.

Of course, she hadn't considered an errant Ryūsei dead-set on a collision course with her forehead as part of her final judgement.

 _"_ _PULL UP!"_ came an angry roar from the distant archery dojo where the carrier shipgirls practiced launching and receiving aircraft.

"I AM, _IDIOT_!" With barely a wing's length to spare, the torpedo bomber successfully cleared her face, though not before two Zeroes passed over and made obscene gestures at the pilot as well.

"Spoken not a moment too soon," Kongō groaned before chasing after the three aircraft. Maybe she could beat Ōyodo to it before the cruiser had to dig into Goto's medication stash…

Unfortunately, the fates decided that such was not to be the case. By the time she arrived there was already a small crowd surrounding the facility. In the center was a red-faced carrier giving her green-clad opponent the most brutal verbal beating of her life, her side ponytail shaking in anger at every word.

"I asked you to torpedo the buoy 10 kilometers out, and you call missing the target with _every torpedo bomber_ a 'SUCCESS'?"

Kongō wordlessly slipped beside Ōyodo and Nagato, who was acting as interim admiral in Goto's absence.

"It's not too serious," Yokosuka's fleet secretary remarked, nodding in acknowledgement as the fast battleship approached. "Most of us are here because we never knew Kaga could get so loud when she's upset."

"To be fair, she has every right to be," Nagato frowned. "If the Unryū carriers can't get their act together soon, we'll be at a serious disadvantage come spring. Rumor has it that the Pacific nations have been encouraged by our success last fall, and plan to launch a joint offensive on all fronts. However, if we don't have air superiority…"

"It's going to be a mess," Kongō finished. "What about the others?"

"Aw, jeez, don't even talk about them," burst in Ryūjo. "Unryū's pilots can take off and land, but they're extremely careless. If Akizuki hadn't been intentionally missin', they would'a been completely wiped out. Amagi only passed because Akagi was the one judging 'er, and ya know why she's a big softie for 'er."

"Maybe, just _maybe,_ if you tried using THESE aircraft instead of your obsolete, shitty Nakaj-"

SMACK!

Kaga lowered her hand. "A mistake is a mistake, _don't_ blame the aircraft. I am not training you to be my _equal_ , I am training you to be my _superior._ You were intended to replace me in the war, but as of now I can run _circles_ around you. For every abyssal carrier we sink, there is one who gets away. What will you do when that runaway attacks you? Your planes could easily blow them out of the sky, but _she_ will know that and use her experience to outmaneuver you." She turned to the other two downcast carriers. "You have three still have much to learn before you are even _remotely_ battle ready. Dismissed."

* * *

"So it's true then, dess?" Kongō asked incredulously as she affectionately massaged Goto's back. "The Americans-"

"The Americans will attempt to push south from Alaska and west from Hawaii," he grunted in affirmation. "New Jersey will lead the southern push and Missouri the western one. Admiral Yorimitsu will lead the fleet gathered at Ōminato north on a mop-up operation so that the southern push faces little resistance. Meanwhile, in conjunction with the other three naval bases we'll sail south to help relieve supply lines we were able to open up through earlier joint operations. Finally, the RAN, the PLAN, the PN, the ROKN, and the ROCN have all pledged _some_ support, although since they haven't had any success summoning shipgirls they'll pretty much only be token support. Oh, and supposedly the Germans, French, British, and Russians all have volunteers for an expedition, but if they have any shipgirls to spare they won't arrive until the very end. But enough about tactics. How was base while I was away?"

"Everything's shipshape!"

"No Iku attacks?"

"Nope!"

"No destroyers experimenting with what-if proposals?"

"Nope~!"

"And I assume that everyone else not mentioned didn't do anything that requires me to take my medication?"

"Yeeepp~!"

"So then, how was your day?"

"Excellent, dess!"

The admiral gave a frown.

"Nooo, not like that! I missed you too, Admiral!"

"I'm glad you had so much fun without me," he commented, still pretending to be hurt. "So, what have you been up to the past few days?"

"I reread _the book_ -"

"I'm going to have to remind Ōyodo to hide all of your British paraphernalia while I'm away."

"Had a most _splendid_ tea party-"

"Nothing new."

"And visited Mikasa-san!"

"…Or in other words, had a three hour conversation with yourself."

"Hey," she pouted, "that's not true!"

Goto sighed. "Every time you've visited her in the past it's the same story. You try and draw her out with tea and crumpets, you get no response, and so you end up spending the rest of the day gossiping about events on base under the assumption she's listening!"

"But Admiraaallll, someone came this time!"

"Whaaaaaaa-"

"It was..." Kongō paused dramatically. "A JMSDF Officer! Gotcha, dess!" she giggled as Goto desperately tried to look like he hadn't fallen for her bluff.

"I'm pretty sure you were just imagining it, dear," he chuckled.

"Nope~! She even showed me her crutches-"

Goto sprung up from the bed so fast he almost lifted his ship-girlfriend off the sheets.

"Crutches?" He frowned. "I know I still haven't gotten to know everyone at Yokosuka since the personnel rosters were reassigned, but I don't remember anyone being in crutches. Maybe she's an incoming cadet this spring…"

"That's what I thought too," Kongō added quietly. "Ah well, we'll find out soon!"

"Indeed." At that moment Admiral Goto gave off a violent yawn. "I say we call it a night. We've both had a long day."

Within minutes both of them were snuggled cozily in the bed they shared. The admiral, exhausted from his long trip, was fast asleep, but Kongō was restless. The more she thought about the JMSDF officer's story, the less it made sense.

But what was unusual about it? Was it the fact that she was too proud to use prosthetic limbs when she clearly was eligible for them? Or that she was still in the JMSDF in spite of her operation that rendered her utterly useless for maritime duties? All of those could easily be explained as having the right connections and simply having the ego of a certain aircraft carrier. No, from the soles of her boots to the tip of her cap-

Wait a moment.

Wordlessly the fast battleship slipped out of bed and headed towards Goto's coatrack. She fumbled about in the dark as quietly as she could before seizing the objection in question. Just as stealthily, she turned on a small light beside the bed.

"Just as I thought," she muttered.

In her hands, was Goto's JMSDF cap.

It was white.

* * *

 _She sat quietly on the deck, cradling the bloodied head of a blonde woman like a baby._

 _"_ _Hey," she whispered softly, lifting her canteen to the woman's mouth. "Have a drink."_

 _The woman's eyes widened and narrowed, glancing at the canteen fearfully as it was poisoned._

 _She sent the woman a pleading look, to which the blonde finally gave in and began slurping down its contents._

 _"_ _I know you won't be able to understand what I'm saying nor do I expect you to. I simply want you to be at peace. We are more alike than you think; we just happened to be on opposing sides. I know you would have done the same that I did were the roles reversed."_

 _At least, that's what she hoped. There was something gnawing deep within her, something that almost overrode her pity for her defeated opponent…_

 _Anger. Hatred. Vengeance._

 _There were footsteps approaching from behind her._

 _"_ _It's no use," he said quietly. "A lieutenant was able to converse with the crew. Her pumps are shot, and she's holed below the waterline in far too many replaces than what the damage control crews can repair on short notice."_

 _A yank on her hair brought her attention back to the blonde woman._

 _"_ _Spasibo," she croaked, before coughing up a pool of blood._

 _Except it wasn't blood, but some ominous black mass. In the blink of an eye it washed over the woman's face, turning her blue eyes red and giving her already-pale skin a blanched pallor._

 _Even worse, it seemed to reinvigorate the woman, who suddenly stood up and placed her into a chokehold, slamming her hard into the deck._

 _[YOOOOUUUUUU,] she cackled, delighting at her futile attempts to escape her grasp. [YOUUUUUUU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME A SECOND TIME.]_

 _The…woman…if such a monstrosity could be called that, turned a leery gaze towards the officer who had been brave enough to stand his ground after witnessing the carnage unfold on deck._

 _She could only watch in horror as a whip-like extension emerged from the woman's face and smashed him into oblivion for his bravery, leaving no memory of his existence. Encouraged by its success, several more whips emerged, eagerly seeking more targets. They quickly found their objectives, slithering onto the bridge where terrified screaming ensued._

 _[FIRST, I WILL KILL YOUR COMMANDERS, THEN YOUR CREW. TRY AND PROTECT THEM, IF YOU DARE. YOUUUU KNOW YOU ARE TOO WEAK TO LET THEM SEE ANOTHER MINUTE. AND THEN AT LAST, I. SHALL. TRIUMPH!]_

DING!

She sighed in relief as the sound of her own bell freed her from her nightmare.

 _Captain Hikojirō. Admiral Tōgō. All of them…_

She crawled out from the cubby she had made beneath the bridge and onto to the deck. It would be impossible to sleep any further with such imagery deeply ingrained in her memory.

As much as she hated her dreams, Mikasa understood why she was having them. Her country's darkest hour was approaching once more, and she was being called upon to help. It was no coincidence, she mused as she fished in her pocket for the various newspapers she had collected, that the ongoing crisis on the seas was happening at the same time that she found herself energized enough to walk about once more.

Well, walk as well as a cripple could.

Decades without functional boilers and engines, which had been replaced with concrete as part of the terms of her memorialization, had taken a toll on her liveliness; there was only so much you could do when you were immobilized below the waist. Ever since she had been consigned to peaceful life, she spent most of her time napping. There were only two moments that really stood out to her.

The first was like a distant nightmare. She heard them screaming before she saw it. The bay around her was in flames, a raging inferno that made the nighttime sky look like broad daylight. Then, there was endless droning sound that resembled endless drilling. It was simply too much for her, and she blacked out before she could observe any further.

The second was a far more pleasant memory. She had awoken to the sounds of excited Japanese and unpolished English, an American accent if she recalled correctly, and being endlessly poked and prodded. Fortunately, their leader, an American officer, was kind enough to inform her for the reasons for their commotion: apparently she had some admirers in the United States who wanted to help restore her, and had thus worked an agreement out with the Japanese government to help pay for her refit. She greatly enjoyed their company and was sad to see them go, but she understood that as a museum ship she couldn't go anywhere even if she wanted to.

This brought her to the present situation. At first, she considered it happenstance that she had woken up one day and was unable to immediately fall back asleep, especially considering nothing was happening in or around the bay, but then days became months, and months, years.

And then came the dream. There was a woman with short black hair and slightly above-average in height, who was on her knees, begging for her to return. Several things struck her as odd about the woman, however. One, she wore a uniform unlike any she had seen in her time with the IJN, an imposter perhaps. Second of all, the woman promised that if the battleship followed her, she could help protect the country she once fought for.

 _As if she could in her present condition._

Mikasa angrily swung the air around her with her right arm. Nothing happened.

"So weak," she muttered.

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"Your replacement," she answered, giving her umbrella a casual twirl. "Japan decided that it has no need for foreign-borns such as yourself. Look at my ten inch guns," she affectionately patted the turret beside her. "How can you expect to be so effective with that...armament you call guns?"_

"Am I so out of practice that I cannot even accomplish this simple task?" she hissed. She took several more aimless swings, again to no effect. Why wasn't her own body responding to her commands?

 _"Can't you see the way of the future? It isn't you. Japan doesn't_ _ **need**_ _you."  
_  
The battleship crumpled to the floor as she began to feel the pains of exerting herself to the limits.

"Port Arthur...The Yellow Sea...Tsushima...I may have only proved myself once, but isn't that good enough?!"

 _It's not working, and you know why_ , a voice inside her head whispered.

"Because I'm pathetic?" Mikasa laughed. Had had she really degenerated into such a simpleton? If only Yashima were here to see the great lengths she had to undertake to complete tasks that she had once did in a heartbeat...

 _You know why, it insisted._

As she closed her eyes in one final attempt, she immediately understood.

 _She was in range now. Her coincidence finders told her that the enemy was hardly more than six kilometers away. At this range, she couldn't miss._

 _"_ _SIX THOUSAND METERS!" The officer shouted._

 _"_ _SIX O'CLOCK!" The gunnery officer bellowed._

 _"_ _SIX O'CLOCK!" The gunner called._

"FIRE!" A sailor waved a board before the crew arranged in her forward turret.

"FIRE!"

 _Creeeeaaaaakkkk_

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer standing exposed on the deck but within the shade of her forward turret. Though it had barely moved more than five degrees, it was five degrees more than anything she had done in…who knew how long.

A feeling of relief washed over her as she rolled over onto her back. She may be handicapped now, but she was still the same battleship she had been all those years ago. All it took was a bit of concentration and a very clear intention, and her metal hull would respond to her guidance. Even if she was a relic in this day and age, time could not take away her memories. With a little bit more practice, she bet she could even give a dreadnought a run for her money.

"At ease," the battleship murmured as the turret returned to its position.

Mikasa glanced out towards Tokyo Bay, watching the bright lights flicker and dance in the distance.

"You were wrong, Satsuma. It doesn't matter how old I am, or how obsolete I have become. Both of us were built to protect this country, and it is _my duty_ to continue to protect it." She guiltily looked down at the nearly-untouched sandwich she had taken from interrupting the party earlier that afternoon.

"Shrine maiden, I do not know who you are, or who your mentor was, but I can tell you this: just as I vowed to lay down my life in the name of the nation when I first arrived in this world, I shall do the same now to protect the people of this country. This, I promise."

One day, she would be ready to answer the call.

One day, like that dreary night so long ago, Tokyo Bay would need assistance.

And one day, she would succeed in protecting the country she held dear to her.

She just didn't realize that that day would come sooner rather than later.


	3. The Homecoming: Battle in Decisive

**A/N:** The full title of this section is "The Homecoming, Part 2: Battle in Decisive." I had to abbreviate the chapter heading due to character limits.

No Mikasa in this section, but she'll come back soon! Have some ship girl combat in the meantime! (Parts 2 and 3 of the Homecoming go together; depending upon how much time I'll have I'll break my 1-2 update/week cycle to keep pace with my postings on Space Battles).

* * *

The pilot glanced nervously behind him. Hot on his tail were not one, not two, but _three_ black-clad fighters giving him an eerie green-eyed grin. He tried sharply turning left and right, but flawlessly they reciprocated his movements.

 _Damn these abyssal hellfighters._

"I'm on them!" came a shout on the radio. He glanced at the sea below and watched as a friendly fighter, a Model 21 Zero by the looks of it, climbed furiously, desperately trying to reach their altitude.

The Model 21 had just begun engaging the leader of his pursuers when a dark cloud swooped down with a shrill cry.

"ABOVE! ABOVE! DISENGAGE! DISENGAGE!" the pilot shrieked. His warning was heeded just in time; another group of abyssal fighters sprayed the air with bullets and rockets where the Zero had been moments earlier. His squadmate would live to see another day.

Unfortunately, that left the pilot severely outnumbered. Though his Model 52 was no tortoise, it was certainly not up to speed with the prospect of outrunning the ever-growing number of hostiles shadowing him. The sound of bullets whizzing dangerously close to his left wing warned him of his fate should he let them approach any closer.

That left only one option.

He thrust the controls towards himself and took a deep breath. With its poor armor, the Zero may be unable to stand up in all out gunfight with hellfighters, but it had no equal in climbing.

Especially vertical climbing.

As the altimeter's needle ascended more and more to the left, his pursuers shrank to the size of pinheads.

 _Whrrrrrrrrrrrrr_

Then there was trouble.

"No, no, no, not now," he pleaded as the engine groaned and the propellers died. What had once been but mere specks below him grew rapidly into small birds. Worse yet, his plane promptly did a 180, heading straight back at them in an uncontrollable nose dive.

As the pilot struggled with the controls, the hellfighters zoomed in for the kill. He would soon be within their sights in 5 seconds…

4…

3…

Their moment never came. Just as they were about to rip the Model 52 to shreds, the fighters were rudely reminded of their poor climbing capabilities by their own sudden and unexpected nose dive.

The pilot, having regained control of his plane, punished them for their mistake without mercy. Within moments three charred husks splashed lifelessly to the ocean surface, the sole remnants of his opponents.

"A bit reckless, but well done," Kaga remarked as she watched the victorious pilot land on Shōkaku's flight deck. "Try and fight defensively, otherwise we won't be able to engage _that,"_ she cautioned, pointing at the massive, dark, and not-too-distant cloud, "much longer."

"Oi, Sara! You hear that?! Stop spewing planes with your Tommy like you're a flower girl at a wedding!" squawked a shrill voice over the radio.

"Sorry, Wasp!" came the meek reply. "I think I got a little carried away…so I guess the fighting is pretty intense on your end?"

"Too easy," Zuikaku smirked, witnessing her own pilots effortlessly down fighter after fighter within the chaotic mass of abyssal and allied planes.

As much as Kaga wished to add the snarky comment that Zuikaku's aviation crew had done so with _jet_ prototypes rather than the traditional monoplanes, she was inclined to agree.

Reports of thirty Abyssal carriers unexpectedly appearing off the coast of Wake Island on a northwesterly trajectory had sent shockwaves throughout the Japanese Admiralty. Every experienced carrier, battleship, light cruiser, submarine, and the entire Akizuki-class, as well as any non-kanmusu destroyer the JMSDF could spare, had been immediately ordered to confront and halt the abyssal advance.

Additional assessments conducted by the United States failed to ease the high command's anxiety. Not only were these abyssal carriers carriers in every sense of the word, but they were "Wo"-class carriers, so called because in the opening days of the war against said vessels had proven incredibly resistant to modern weaponry. These carriers in turn were escorted by an unprecedented swath of abyssal destroyers and submarines, a fact that so alarmed the United States Navy that Missouri was given permission to prematurely initiate the western advance. All-in-all, the Japanese-American Task Force braced themselves for a very difficult pitched battle just outside Ogasawara Island, the likely destination of the abyssal fleet.

 _Except_ , that seemed hardly the case.

"Take this!" O'Bannon shouted, watching as her target, a Ka-class abyssal, swim peacefully away from her potato-shaped depth charge. Even with the Fletcher-class destroyer's attempts at initiating a game of "hot potato," the abyssal submarines contented themselves to remaining a respectful distance away, refusing to make any attempt to close in with the allied carriers or battleships.

Likewise, the abyssal destroyers seemed to engage the enemy half-heartedly, peppering dive bombers with their AA guns only when they got too close for comfort. In spite of indications that the destroyers were armed with some sinister variant of the Type 93 oxygen torpedo, they solidly refused to use them, focusing on weaving in-and-out of the barrages of ordnance the Allied Fleet launched instead.

As for the anticipated airstrikes launched by the "Wo" carriers…

"I've only got five," Akizuki sighed gloomily, her dual-purpose guns idling about in their sockets on her rigging.

"Three here!" Teruzuki chirped.

"Eh, does breaking a wing off its airframe count?" Atlanta laughed nervously. "I probably would have snagged ten, but _someone…_ "

"Hey, don't blame me!" a certain fast battleship definitely-not-named-Missouri hotly protested. "If I see one spinning towards me, you can't say it's my fault for shooting it down!"

"They are spinning because my Oerlikons sent a _shell_ into their nervous systems!"

Nagato sighed. Americans and their obsession with anti-aircraft weaponry…though, to be fair, it was more than justified given how the IJN had given the United States proof of the importance of aerial combat to naval battles. Besides, there were no words to describe how secure she felt behind the AA screens of both the Akizuki and Fletcher sisters, whom Missouri had more than willingly let the dreadnought borrow once it was clear that the enemy submarines posed no real threat.

At that moment two girls in swimsuits numbered "58" and "19" popped out beside her.

"Dechi, you won't believe what me an' Iku just did!" "58" grinned.

"Do I want to know, Goya?" Nagato groaned, feeling a headache coming on.

"Well, Nagato, since you were so kind enough to _ask_ ," "19" smiled lecherously, "I'll spill the beans. We sunk two of the carriers since they were more interested in playing 'hide and seek' than actually doing anything. They're running now!"

The battleship could hardly believe her ears. "Let me get this straight, Iku," she said slowly. "Somehow you and Goya managed to sneak _undetected_ through all of those destroyers _and_ submarines," taking this moment to shake a finger pointedly at the mass of abyssals idling off in the distance, "and sunk _two_ Wo-class carriers, all without a scratch or any shot fired in return."

Iku and Goya looked at each other in amusement, then at Nagato. "Yep," they chorused.

 _What are they playing at?_ She thought.

"I'll mention your bravery in my report. Tell the other submarines to feel free to engage closely _if_ the situation allows them to do so safely." Without another word both submarines dove back into the ocean, eager to relate the event to their friends.

"Was that Iku and Goya just now?" Missouri buzzed in on the radio.

"Yes. Apparently they were able to slip in undetected and actually sink _two_ of their carriers while we were still busy engaging their air forces."

"I'm not quite sure if I believe-"

"No it makes sense," came the calm voice of Taihō. "Hiryū and I were just talking about it; the abyssal hellfighters suddenly seem far less interested in engaging now."

"Then it's time to press the attack," Nagato thundered.

With the battle reaching its decisive moment, it was time to report to the Admiralty for a final assessment. Both Nagato and Missouri agreed that long-distance radio communications would be used sparingly until they had engaged the enemy, hoping to avoid alerting the abyssals on the incoming assault. Now the time had come.

"Yokosuka, this Nagato. We have engaged the enemy and they are retreating. The abyssals are currently down two Wo-class carriers."

"Casualties?" echoed the voice of Admiral Goto.

"None." There was an audible gasp on the Yokosuka-end of the radio. "The enemy has avoided engaging us this entire time. Missouri and I have ordered out an all-out assault on the survivors before they can regroup."

"Do so swiftly, but remember not to overextend," he warned.

"Acknowledged. Taihō, order our carriers to prepare their bombers to strike. Missouri, ask if Saratoga and Wasp can spare some fighters to escort them to their targets."

* * *

As much as he hated admitting it, he was still nervous flying behind the tail of a Japanese aircraft, even if it was a Japanese bomber.

Perhaps it was memories of his time as a young cadet and watching footage again and again of Hinomaru-clad bombers wreak havoc on Pearl Harbor. It didn't matter that he had shot down dozens of them during his service in the Pacific theater and could easily outmatch their skilled fighters; there was something terrifyingly rhythmic about the sway of the bombers as they approached their targets and unleashed their payloads.

"Hey." It was the pilot of the plane he was in charge of escorting. How strange it was in death that they could understand each other's tongue!

"I was at Midway during the war. It feels kind of weird that we're on the same side now." The American fairy merely nodded.

"Do you drink sake?" his Japanese counterpart inquired.

"The hell is that?"

"Mmmm, I don't know how to describe it…it's made from fermented rice. It's pretty good stuff."

"Ah."

There was an awkward silence between the two.

"Look at that _demon_ ," the Japanese fairy muttered in disgust, pointing at the Wo-class carrier below them.

"One ugly S.O.B.," the American commented.

"You wanna give it a poke?"

"Hell yeah! For a moment, I was worried you were going to put me to sleep about rice…"

From her plane's eye view, Wasp watched as the unfortunate Wo-class carrier belatedly began to take evasive action. An abyssal hellfighter, sensing the danger, immediately gave chase to the Wildcat-Nakajima duo, but the Wildcat effortlessly dispatched it. Unhindered, the Nakajima twisted and turned before releasing its torpedo. Whether by luck or by design, the torpedo struck true, plunging deep beneath the unfortunate carrier's hangar and into her aviation fuel tanks. The ensuing explosion lit up the entire battlefield, highlighting the fact that other twenty-seven carriers had been likewise been sent to the bottom.

"The enemy has been defeated in one swift stroke, as is tradition for the First Carrier Division," Kaga commented.

"Yes, but it was _too easy_ ," Missouri hissed. "Why didn't they put up a fight?"

* * *

"Well, this is the shortest offensive of all time," Taylor remarked as the destroyers cautiously investigated the abyssal carcasses washing up on the beach. "I honestly think even a half-eaten potato would have put up a stronger fight than this so-called strike force."

"Don't say that!" O'Bannon frantically shushed her sister. "The Rebels said that right before the attack on Endor, and then," she made the gesture of an alligator snapping its teeth, "the Empire sprung its trap!"

"O'Bannon, not everything is relatable to Star Wars," Oakland sighed, making a mental note to remind the Iowa sisters to stop showing the destroyers action films every time before they sortied out. "Both the JMSDF and the kanmusu have been scouring the area for the remotest signs of abyssal forces, and there are none. Isn't that right, Hatsuzuki?"

Said destroyer remained motionless, instead intently gazing at one of the unmoving forms sprawled out on the sand.

"Hatsuzuki?"

"Oakland-san, the U.S. didn't see any cruisers in the abyssal fleet in their reports, did they?" the Akizuki destroyer inquired.

"No, why?"

Hatsuzuki prodded the lifeless head of the "Wo" carrier she had been staring it, knocking off its signature headwear in the process.

"Then why is this 'carrier' actually a light cruiser?"

* * *

"Perhaps the enemy has gotten so desperate it is throwing everything it has at us whether they are ready or not," Nagato mused, looking at Missouri uncertainly. "Nevertheless, we have won." She closed her eyes as her fairies changed the frequency on the ship's radio.

"Yokosuka, this is Nagato, come in Yokosuka."

There was no reply.

"Yokosuka, do you read me, come in Yokosuka!"

"Strange," Missouri remarked, "the radio was working just fine earlier."

"Perhaps it somehow got damaged in the heat of battle?" Atlanta chimed in hopefully.

"No, I'm not getting any signal either," Kaga frowned. "Whatever's going on, it's definitely not on _our_ end."

"Hold on, there's a transmission from a different channel…" suddenly Nagato's eyes widened.

"No way," she whispered. "Missouri, can you-"

"Hang on, I'm receiving an urgent transmission…holy…"

"What is it?" Kaga tapped impatiently.

"It's Tokyo. The abyssals are bombing it as we speak."


	4. The HC: The Devil and the Deep Blue Bay

**A/N:** Ai ya, I forgot to update this last week! My apologies, I'll increase the rate I update this story until it catches up with the original thread.

This is the counterpart fragment to Part 2. The following parts of this arc/chapter involve multiple point-of-view shifts indicated by the line breaks; I can provide a list of all the major and minor characters if necessary.

* * *

She hadn't been able to sleep for the past few nights. Every single time she tried, she would immediately wake up to the sensation of cold sweat on her face. Something was coming. Something _awful._

But what?

It was time to practice again…

* * *

"How unfortunate," Fusō sighed, extending an arm towards the vaulted ceiling above her, "that we need to be in the docks for a refit when the abyssals are at our doorstep."

"Bah, that's nothing," the green-clad carrier beside her grumbled as she held some tools. "You weren't built properly, so you can't help it. _I_ on the other hand don't need repairs, but that _battleship_ of an aircraft carrier thinks we aren't ready, so my sisters and I have to sit here and twiddle our thumbs while everyone else gets to participate in the glorious defense!"

"You can't help it, both of you," Yūbari soothed. "Fusō, Admiral Goto has been talking for some time about converting you and Yamashiro into aviation battleships. We're going to need more carriers when spring comes around, and this is the perfect opportunity to give you and your sister versatility for the impending operation." She gestured at the carrier for her wrench. "As for you Katsuragi, it would be a crushing blow to morale if we lost you guys so soon. Look on the bright side, by the time spring is here you'll be more than qualified to sortie on the front lines."

"Assuming Kaga passes us," Katsuragi snorted. "I think you've implemented the flight deck too high, that looks _really_ uncomfortable for Fusō."

"Drat, you may be right. Lieutenant Tōgō, can you come here for a minute? I need to see your plans again."

A bob-cut wearing JMSDF officer slid into the covered quay where Fusō was undergoing operation, giving the experimental cruiser a thumbs up. "Wazzup?" she drawled.

Yūbari sighed and rolled her eyes skyward at the officer's hey-look-I'm-trying-to-be-cool-let-me-bask-in-this-moment gesture. It was a well-known fact that the great-great grandniece of the "Nelson of the East" had flirted for a time with the idea of becoming a rockstar before her love of naval architecture had won her over to the JMSDF. The jury was still out on whether that was a blessing or a curse for Yokosuka: she was among the few people, both shipgirl and human, who knew every screw and plate of the kanmusu.

Not even Yūbari and Akashi were safe.

On the bright side, she came in real handy planning and proposing refits of the kanmusu and their foreign counterparts. More than once she had been "borrowed" by Vestal and Medusa to help brainstorm modernizations of the American standards which were met with noticeable success.

Oh, and explaining why on earth was this flight deck hitched up so high on Fusō's waist.

"Can you give your reasoning behind this modification? Is it supposed to be this high?"

"Ah yeah. Right." The lieutenant snapped her fingers before whirling her right arm as if she was throwing a baseball. "Your refit is based off of the Ise-class's semi-conversion in World War II. I don't particularly agree with the aesthetics of the design as you may have noticed, but it's the only way we can fit _Zuiun_ in there."

"Z-z-zuiun?"

"Yes of course. What, you weren't expecting to be a seaplane tender were you?"

"N-n-no. Thank you, Tōgō-san!"

"Get your refit first, and then thank me. I tried giving 'Jersey an upgrade the last time she was here and when she saw the results she shrieked as if she was possessed by The Thing. Now, if you will excuse me these Mogami-class refits will not draw themselves so I must be on my merry way!"

Katsuragi groaned as the door slammed shut behind the lieutenant. "Seriously, are all of you scientists this crazy?"

* * *

Patrol duty at Yokosuka. _Patrol duty_ at Yokosuka. _Pa-fucking-trol duty at Yokosuka._

Shitty admiral, what did he think was going to attack in the middle of winter, a giant rubber duck?

"Noon. Report: Nothing as usual," Akebono grumbled. Of all the destroyers on the Yokosuka roster it just _had_ to be her. Not DesDiv6, which got to go on a _wonderful_ expedition to Ōminato in order to pick up extra supplies for the _feast_ they would no doubt be having tonight for their victory at Ogasawara. Not the Akizuki sisters since they just happened to be _walking AA platforms_ for an operation against _carriers_. Not Fubuki and her gang since they were considered _experienced_ enough to run an _entire naval base_ while its admiral was on sick leave. Her.

Perhaps she was just _slightly_ wishful that Goto would appreciate her efforts more. Then again, she wasn't patrolling alone. He was at least considerate to recognize how _boring_ her task would be and let her sisters tag along.

"Mmmm, crab cake," Oboro groaned as she bit into her lunch, her pet crustacean waving a claw in approval. Akebono couldn't help but facepalm at the sheer amount of irony embodied in the destroyer's meal.

"Hey, leave some for Sazanami!" their pink-haired sister wailed. "Sazanami did your share too, Oboro!" After a streak of aggressive prodding, Oboro finally relented and handed the destroyer half of the remaining patty.

For her part Akebono refused to beg Oboro for food. True, she was hungry, but technically they weren't allowed to eat while on patrols. And if something happened to the four of them, Akebono, Oboro, Sazanami, and Ushio…

Come to think of it, where was Ushio?

"Uh, Akebono?" a hand tugged nervously at her sleeve. There was her timid sister Ushio, her eyes unusually large and full of fear, even by her standards. "You know how we were supposed to patrol Tokyo Bay and the surrounding areas for signs of unusual activity, right?"

"Yes, yes," Akebono sighed. "What is it?"

"Well, I was about to finish my rounds when I saw a black cloud in the distance." That immediately got her attention.

"Black clouds? How big? Where was it? Was it bad weather or did it look like something else?"

"I don't know, I was too scared to look."

"Dammit Ushio, we need visuals! I can't just tell Shitty Goto that 'Ushio saw something but didn't investigate.'"

"But I had a really, really bad feeling about it. Like I should turn around. It seemed really ominous and-"

"Like that?" Oboro pointed to a pitch-black cloud slowly moving in from the south. The four of them gazed at the sinister mass in question.

Whatever it was, it caused Akebono to shiver too.

"Come on come on come on!" she snapped at her fairies as they frantically dug about her hull for her binoculars. After giving the deliverer a menacing glare, she gave the cloud a cursory scan.

" _Oh shit."_

* * *

 _"Yokosuka, this Nagato. We have engaged the enemy and they are retreating. The abyssals are currently down two Wo-class carriers."_

 _"Casualties?"_

 _"None. The enemy has avoided engaging us all-out this entire time. Missouri and I have ordered out an all-out assault on the survivors before they can regroup."_

She gave the radio a faint click, a smirk spreading wide across her pale face.

"What is it, Admiral?" The red-eyed girl sitting beside her at their makeshift table asked.

She muffled her laughter with her sleeve of her dress. It was not proper to demonstrate such pride before her victory.

"They have fallen for the trap. Second!" A young woman with two black horns protruding from the sides of her head approached her and bowed in salute.

"Yes, commander?"

"Inform our carriers that the diversion was successful. Our allies who were cowardly enough to be defeated again and again have granted us victory here with the...entertainment they have provided for the enemy."

She couldn't help but feel a bit of _pride_ as she watched the Wo-class carriers grimly open their mouths and prepared their flight decks, preparing to launch their payloads on the virtually defenseless city.

These were not just any group of abyssal carriers, but _her_ carriers. Unlike those fools who dared called themselves _princesses,_ she was born to battle and was molded by it. Every defeat made her stronger; every victory was proof of her unprecedented martial prowess.

Why? Because she was not ambitious. She knew that the enemy would soon be launching an assault stronger than any other offense they had conducted before. She was no fool; she knew they would keep attacking whether she wanted them to or not.

However, she could give the enemy a clean thrashing; a thrashing so terrible that they _could_ not attack whether or not they wanted to for months. By then it would be far, far too late for the battles to come. Japan would yield to her power, or she would be standing in its remains.

She twirled her parasol round and round before dramatically pointing it at the distant coastline.

"All aircraft, _launch._ "

* * *

 _Knock knock._

"OPEN UP!"

Yūbari sighed. Fusō's remodeling was almost complete, what on earth could possibly be so imp-

 _Crash._

"SHITTY CRUISER!" a red-faced destroyer roared as the door disintegrated before her. "GET THAT SHITTY BATTLESHIP'S ASS MOVING! THERE'S AN ABYSSAL ATTACK INCOMING ANY SECOND NOW!"

Normally, the cruiser would shrug it off as the destroyer's attempt to hyperventilate after attempting to approach Admiral Goto, but then Yamashiro came thundering down after her.

"Yūbari! Oh, calamity! The patrol just spotted a swarm of abyssal aircraft, and they're headed straight for the naval base."

The experimental cruiser became wide-eyed in terror at the news. The last time she participated in an air raid of such magnitude…it, well, it didn't exactly end well for her at Truk.

Fusō groaned as she came to. "Yamashiro? Is something the matter?" Her sister immediately hurried over to her and began frantically explaining the impending attack.

Katsuragi yawned and stretched. "Well, looks like my assignment won't be boring _after all_."

* * *

"What's the situation?" Goto inquired.

"We're considerably short in both firepower and manpower," Ōyodo remarked grimly. "Four destroyers, two cruisers, two dreadnoughts one of which isn't in battle condition, and three quite-literally green aircraft carriers. Apparently DesDiv6 is on their way back now and Kure promises reinforcements, but there's no guarantee they'll arrive in time."

"Eleven kanmusu to cover all of Tokyo and its surroundings," Goto chuckled. "I assume JDS _Amagiri_ and _Ōnami_ will also be at our disposal?"

" _Amagiri_ is apparently still in drydock so at most she can only serve as a fixed platform. _Ōnami_ will try and help, but she's only one destroyer. As for the rest of the JSDF, they'll be deployed in the districts to try and serve as damage control. They're also evacuating residents from the crowded areas since the abyssals will almost certainly target them."

"Send an emergency message through JSDF channels. I have the following requests:

One. The _Amagiri and Ōnami_ are to engage as a last resort. Not only is their weaponry woefully inadequate to repel the incoming abyssal aircraft, but actively attacking them will likely provoke the abyssals into destroying them.

Two. Ensure that all coastal areas are cleared of civilians. It is possible that the abyssals have something planned for any unfortunate to be caught on the docks.

Three. Send an AA detachment to protect the _Mikasa_. As a memorial ship, I cannot but help shake the suspicion that she will be an objective in their machinations…"

* * *

 _Mist. What an interesting word to describe the state of water when sprayed through the air…_

 _"Can you see anything?" Asahi asked, straining her eyes as she desperately tried searching the sea before them._

 _"Nothing," frowned Yashima, pocketing her binoculars within her white coat. "Mikasa?"_

 _The battleship scanned the harbor through her optical sights. It was difficult to make anything out clearly, but just ahead was the enemy fleet. At one bay was a cruiser, whose crew was making hasty repairs after the attack the night before. At another were two cruisers that had clearly beached themselves and absolutely in no condition to give battle._

 _Well, almost. The former was in the process of having her unseemly gaping hole in her bow patched over, and the latter was being hastily cleansed of her charred debris, the remnants of her wounds where Akatsuki (that brave little destroyer!) had torpedoed her the night before._

 _On the other side was the rest of the Imperial Russian fleet, their smokestacks steaming in anticipation of battle._

 _Wait a moment._

 _"Unless my eyes deceive me, it seems the night attack-"_

 _"Admiral Tōgō!" At that moment Kasagi appeared alongside the battleship, her bearded commander excitedly waving at Mikasa's own._

 _"Yes, Rear-Admiral Dewa?"_

 _"The night attack was a success! The Russian fleet has scattered and is in disarray within Port Arthur!"_

 _No. No, you're wrong! The battleship wanted to scream out. They're ready and coming for us!_

 _Tōgō's brows furrowed. "Their cohesion collapsed so quickly? It seems that I have severely overestimated Admiral Stark. What about their coastal batteries?"_

 _"Is it true, Kasagi?" Yashima asked innocently, barely able to restrain her glee. The cruiser nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing up and down as the two commanders studied the situation._

 _"Mikasa, what are you waiting for, that's your queue!" Fuji barked. "You're strong, stronger than any of us with that bloody Krupp armor of yours. Get to it!"_

 _"But-"the battleship protested as the Japanese officers issued their ultimate decision:_

 _"Captain Hikojirō, send a signal to the fleet: Engage the Enemy."_

"You there, what are you doing over here?" A man glowered at her from the pavement of the park. He was dressed in a strange green uniform with brown and white shades splattered all over. "Shouldn't you be with the other personnel at Yokosuka?" he demanded.

"Uh," she scratched her head sheepishly, "I've been ordered to keep watch here. Can't do much with these legs, y'see?"

"ID?" he barked.

Mikasa wordlessly slipped him a metal wedge. In her recent strolls around Yokosuka she had seen some figures, clearly members of some military force, wearing the insignia, and thought it prudent to copy it to maintain her own military disguise.

"Ah, a Lieutenant Gasa, I see," he commented before saluting her. "Sergeant Fuyumichi. We were given orders to protect this old battleship, and I suppose we can use every man we can get our hands on."

He beckoned to the soldiers behind him. "Satake, Komai, bring that Bofors to _Mikasa_ 's rear." Two soldiers promptly pushed a gun with a flared muzzle so that it was alongside the battleship.

"Kuchiba! Order your men to detach that M51! The brass says they'll likely be flying low, so it'll be perfect for when the situation gets hot!"

"Sergeant, this weapon hasn't used in decades," Kuchiba protested. "I don't think it'll be able to do anything but turn menacingly!"

"Aye, but they were sightings of phantoms on the horizon!"

"Phantoms?" Mikasa inquired.

Fuyumichi sighed. "Right, you ocean-goers probably aren't familiar with the army's slang. We classify abyssal aircraft according to two forms: hellfighters and phantoms. Hellfighters are these creepy-looking masses that remind me of oni. They're annoying and completely impervious to our weaponry and require a kanmusu to shoot down. Phantoms on the other hand can be damaged by our equipment, but you absolutely don't want to be at the receiving end of their payloads. We call them 'phantoms' because they are visibly identical in appearance to our own historical aircraft, except they're painted in low-visibility liveries. They've used that similarity in the past to get the jump on us."

The sergeant's response provided the pre-dreadnought with more questions than answers.

 _What were abyssals? Why were airplanes so frightening? Sure, they rule the skies, but they're flimsy little craft…_

Whatever Mikasa was thinking, Fuyumichi didn't notice. He had other pressing things on his mind.

Such as why his men were gaping at the battleship as if Godzilla himself had popped out from the ship's bridge.

"Don't just stand there, get a move on!" That broke the soldiers out of their trances, and they immediately returned to their preparations. It wasn't until he turned around that he understood the cause of their distraction.

"How the hell did _Mikasa's_ forward turret end up _there_ ," he remarked to no one in particular, eying the guns that had somehow rotated ninety degrees starboard towards Tokyo Bay.

"Damn vandals," he muttered.


	5. The Homecoming: Hope is Lost

**A/N:** I'm posting Parts 4 _and_ Parts 5 together as they are matching counterparts to each other. If you see a P5 in the chapter section title but haven't read P4, go back a chapter!

I'll warn upfront that Part 4 had a mixed reception when I originally posted it for a variety of reasons, and that I plan to revise it in the future (namely in adding more details-the overall plot points will remain the same). At the time I was writing it, I didn't want to drag out Mikasa's introduction any further (it was originally supposed to be a single chapter, then it became several chapters...you can see where this is going) so a lot of the action was pretty fast-paced, and to be honest writing dramatic climactic battles between modern navies and abyssals always worried me as it requires a bit more suspension of disbelief then I preferred. I'll make an announcement in the Author's notes in later chapters whenever I get around to those edits.

That said, there are people who _did_ like Part 4 in its present state, and I hope you will as well! If not, well, there's better fragments to look forward to!

* * *

"This is _not_ AA defense, _hurry up_!" she screeched as her fairy pilots desperately attempted to take off.

The chaos of battle was taking a toll on her commanding officers far more quickly than Amagi expected. She had succeeded in launching her first wave of airplanes, a group of Model 52 Zeroes, without incident, quickly engaging the abyssal vanguard comprised of hellfighters.

It was the first air group of the main abyssal force, a swarm of Hellcat dive bombers nearly eighty in number, that was the problem. Having evaded the combined fighters from both her hangar and Unryū's, the phantom aircraft maneuvered as if they were planning on executing a bombing run against the carrier and released two clusters of bombs dangerously close to her bow and stern. Even though her repair crews reported that no damage had been done, the attack greatly rattled her pilots, and the sailors in charge of re-arming the planes likewise moved nervously about the hangar in fear of being caught in the next blast.

Unfortunately, that meant that her sister's second group of Zeroes were left to dry in the unfolding aerial battle. Mere moments after the squadrons of Model 52's had left the flight deck, they had been completely exterminated.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" Unryū cried out, clutching her head in anguish. The panicked screams of her pilots in their last moments rang endlessly in her ears.

" _My Zeroes are coming, hang in there dammit!"_ came an agitated shout on the radio.

"Katsuragi, what the _hell_ is taking you so long?! We've been engaging the abyssals for some time now!"

"Yūbari and Tōgō quickly threw together something so we now have an ace up our sleeves! Also, I'm not reinforcing you alone!"

"Sorry…I'm still not feeling well…" chimed in a melancholy voice.

"You brought _Fusō_ to an _aerial fight_? Are you mad, Katsuragi?"

"Yūbari was basically finished with the remodel when the attack began, so Fusō's capable of launching and receiving aircraft," Ōyodo added. "The problem is it's made her quite sluggish, and the deck can't handle extreme stress since it hasn't had time to set in yet."

"Like I said-"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. You know the drill, Amagi."

"Yes of course," came the glum reply. "I just wished we didn't have to repeat it all over again."

* * *

[Admiral.]

A Wo-class carrier had paused her preparations for the next attack to address her.

[It seems that the enemy has three aircraft carriers prepared to repel our attack.]

"Class," she demanded.

[Unryū. They were launched at the end of the War so they are inexperienced, but they seem to have been equipped with advanced fighters. There's also a Fusō with some seaplanes. Shall I send my hellbombers to destroy them?]

"No, we aren't here to fight kanmusu," she hissed. "Order your worst fighters to keep those carriers busy; everyone else should focus on the objectives."

[Roger.]

* * *

"Attention, this is Ōyodo. There's a wave of bombers headed for Tokyo now. Fusō and our carriers are being swarmed with hellfighters and _those_ Zeroes so they couldn't prevent them from breaking through."

"Ōyodo, this is the Minister of Defence. Your warning has been received; the JSDF will be on full alert."

Goto sighed as he studied the situation from the safety of Yokosuka's basement, watching as more and more tiny blips made their way towards the Japanese capital. Had he been ignorant of the fact that abyssals projected a miniscule signature on radar, the admiral would have dismissed them as noise. If only that were the case…

Every single kanmusu in and around Tokyo Bay had steamed towards the bay's mouth to establish an initial level of AA defense to delay the routes of the abyssal bombers. Additionally, the JMSDF dispatched the _Ōnami_ to the eastern side of the bay near Chiba in order to offer the area their own anti-aircraft screen; present resources put that side of the metropolitan area at a disadvantage. Meanwhile, the government had vacated its residence at Chiyoda and its surrounding wards. Anyone still roaming the streets and those within residential areas had also been relocated as quickly as time would allow. Personally, he wished the JSDF had more forces at hand, but such was fate.

"This is Sergeant Fuyumichi at Mikasa Park. They're headed straight for the Harbor."

"The company sector, eh?"

Given the abyssal obsession with historic parallels, there was no shadow of a doubt within the entire JSDF the objectives of the present abyssal operation. Tokyo was a major hub of activity for both kanmusu and the Japanese, and if the enemy succeeded in devastating its industries or destroying its numerous residential areas, it would be a major blow to morale. Such had been the case in 1945, when up to two hundred thousand civilians lost their lives and a million more displaced.

This time, they were prepared. Every single anti-aircraft weapon the military could muster had been concentrated in the city's vital districts. Even a hellfighter would have trouble escaping the crossfire the JSDF could lay down.

Moreover, they weren't alone.

"Prime Minister, this is Vice Admiral Stephens of the United States Seventh Fleet. I'll send over DesRon 15 right away."

"Thank you, Vice Admiral. From our view of Minato, it looks like our troops will need all the help they can get."

* * *

She grimaced as she watched through the vantage-point of a hellfighter a flotilla of destroyers make way in pursuit of her carriers' aircraft.

As proud as she was of her plan, she had realized that she had made one small error: the United States had their own fleet within the vicinity, and moreover one capable of dispatching missiles that could eliminate her skilled bombers like a ratcatcher with vermin. True, said missiles were limited in number, but she was not one of those so-called "princesses." She would not sacrifice her children to prove that she could.

"All carriers, heed my instructions…"

* * *

"What?!" came the bewildered voice of the Minister of Defense.

"I repeat, they're changing course! They were about to enter range of our Oerlikons and Guntanks, but then they suddenly pulled up!"

"That's a first," mused Admiral Goto. "The abyssals seem to be conserving their airpower."

"Where are they headed now?" asked the Prime Minister anxiously.

"I can't tell; they're too hard to spot with our current visibility."

"I'll order DesRon 15 to hold position." A loud explosion echoed through the radio at the Vice Admiral's proclamation.

"Admiral, one of the _Arleigh-Burkes_ has been hit!" came a panicky voice. "It was a squadron of one of those damn phantom dive bombers; somehow they got through our defenses and scored a direct hit on the _Barry_!"

"How serious is it?"

"It's pretty serious; she's listing slightly to port from the damage and her communications are shot. Her captain has been signaling us he can get it under control though!"

"Stephens, you should order a retreat," the Prime Minister warned. "A group of _Arleigh-Burkes_ stalling in open water to aid in the rescue would be a prime target for the abyssals, missiles or not."

"I think that's the least of our worries, Minister," the Vice Admiral remarked as several more explosions rocked the entire city.

* * *

"Holy…" Sergeant Fuyumichi breathed as he watched the smoke rise in the distance. "They're attacking Chiyoda!" There was concerned murmuring at this news.

"The government vacated the city already though, haven't they?" Kuchiba squinted thoughtfully at his superior.

"It's still the seat of government," Satake, the gunner of the Bofors, frowned.

They all gasped as they watched something explode in the distance, send debris high into the air. Mikasa winced, acting as if one of the nearby soldiers had started scratching a chalkboard with his fingernails.

"What the hell was that?!"

"It looked like a ship!"

"But the _Arleigh-Burkes_ are all over _there_!"

"Wait…isn't that where the _Ōnami_ was moored?"

There was a moment of silence before each soldier took off his helmet and bowed his head.

All except one.

"Lieutenant Gasa" hadn't heard the explosion at all.

All she heard was that endless droning sound that haunted her dreams, punctuated by Ōnami's final cry before she disintegrated.

" _Dewa!" Tōgō shouted as the Russians advanced towards them, clearly ready for battle. "I thought you said they were disorganized!"_

 _The battleship closed her eyes. She had an opportunity to change the outcome, but had squandered it._

It was time to be decisive.

* * *

[ _Amagiri_ , hit! _Ōnami_ , exterminated!]

[The American squadron is retreating back to their base!]

[All buildings of political importance have been levelled in the capital!]

[Light damage inflicted on the industrial regions within the port sector in spite of their superior anti-air weaponry!]

With every report she found it more and more difficult to restrain her glee. Every time humanity thought it had the advantage, she _kindly_ reminded them that it was _she_ who dictated the terms of engagement.

* * *

Exhaustion.

That's all what Fusō felt as she motioned for her Zuiun to take off for what felt like the hundredth time in the battle.

The abyssals seemed to send wave after wave of enemy fighters without the battle taking any toll whatsoever on their supply of aircraft.

Fusō, on the other hand was down to only a handful. Unryū and Amagi were in similar straits, their aircraft spent and robes in tatters, wearied by the frantic maneuvering they had to execute in order to avoid taking the brunt of the enemy's bombs and torpedoes. All three of them were emotionally spent.

The carriers' fatigue was contagious. The reports of the destroyers' guns slowed to a crawl, and the roar of Yūbari and Ōyodo's anti-aircraft armament died down to almost a whimper.

Even Akebono, who had been hurling an endless supply of invectives at the enemy, had fallen silent, electing to send a warning glare instead at anything that approached her too closely.

Only one shipgirl remained actively committed to the defense.

"Not yet," growled Katsuragi, eying a group of phantom B-25's victoriously zooming overhead. The carrier was just about to order her last squadron to give chase when she stumbled to the ocean surface, panting heavily from overexertion and exhaustion.

* * *

"Admiral, the carriers report that their defense is breaking. It seems that they have not the stamina for battle that we do."

"Excellent, I was beginning to grow bored with their pathetic attempts. Proceed with the final objective."

* * *

Lieutenant Tōgō glanced nervously over the bay. Fifteen minutes earlier, a lull developed in the engagement between the kanmusu and the abyssal air force. Now there was almost complete silence.

"Admiral Goto…?"

"They're still alive," he stated firmly. "Stephens has a visual on them, and they're appearing on our radar."

"But if they aren't fighting, and if the abyssals stopped attacking Tokyo…"

"Aye, that means we're next."

* * *

 _"_ _Goto, this is Vice-Admiral Stephens. At least sixty of_ _ **those**_ _B-25's, Betty's, and Mosquitos among others, and closing."_

 _"_ _B-25's?! How on earth can abyssals-"_

 _"_ _The same way we did in '42."_

 _There was silence._

 _"_ _The kanmusu were overwhelmed," Goto stated quietly. "They're alive, but they can't delay the enemy any longer."_

 _More silence._

 _"_ _I'll send a division of guntanks-"_

 _"_ _No."_

 _"_ _Prime Minister, I demand that you let me reinforce Admiral Goto! We cannot afford to lose such an important naval base, plus the United States Seventh Fleet is currently undergoing-"_

 _"_ _Minister, are you willing to let thirteen million people die just to protect one base? Are you willing to see the charred remains of innocent men, women, and children at the hands of these monsters? How can we be certain that this is not part of their plan? I still remember the photos of the 'Highway of Death,' of tanks and vehicles strewn about like children's toys at the hands of a foe with aerial superiority. That is the fate of our few and utterly vital anti-air forces should the abyssals detect them."_

 _"_ _The air force could-"_

 _"_ _The air force could do what, exactly? The number of abyssals swarming the capital now nearly equals the aircraft complement of the entire JASDF. Might I remind you the number of years it has taken to restore the force to full strength after our early offensives?"_

 _"_ _But their missiles-"_

 _"_ _Minister, you know better. Their signature is so small and so faint it makes their homing capabilities inaccurate. Just as I will not let Tokyo burn for no reason, I will not authorize the sacrifice an entire army branch without just cause."_

 _The Minister of Defense angrily slapped his desk in defeat._

 _"_ _It's okay Minister, we will think of something," Goto assured him half-heartedly._

 _"_ _DesRon15's going to try and join in before it's too late, but the bombers have a significant headstart."_

"May you be able to hold out, Yokosuka."

Sergant Fuyumuchi stared at the radio in disbelief.

Sixty bombers. Two guns. No additional support.

"Sergeant, is it true? B-25's, headed _here?_ "

He numbly nodded.

A soldier punched the ground in frustration.

"They failed us. The kanmusu failed _us._ They had sworn to protect us, and they _failed_."

"No, private, we _all_ failed."

* * *

[Commander, the Americans have turned about to try and delay our attack on Yokosuka!]

She swore as she heard the hiss of missiles leaving their cells from the phantoms' radios.

"Go cold, NOW!"

[But Admiral, that will reduce the effectiveness of the-]

"Do it!"

There was the sound of projectiles whistling by the abyssal craft, and then stillness.

"Scramble the jets I gave you, I will not have them postpone the conclusion of this battle any longer!"

* * *

Lieutenant Tōgō licked her lips as she stared at the AA batteries lining the coast before her. It had been a pet project of Yūbari, Akashi, and herself to develop an effective anti-abyssal aircraft weapon for human use, although it certainly had not been part of the project to be forced to rely on them. Now every able-bodied being on the Naval Base was manning them, Goto included despite unanimous protests.

"These look well made," the admiral commented, giving the device an experimental pull.

"Akashi was the one who developed the mechanisms," Tōgō explained. "A pity she was sent out to Ogasawara when she actually would be more useful here."

"I don't need an explanation," Goto dismissed. "I just hope that these will work."

"I'm sure they'll work at least as well as the two guns defending _Mikasa_ ," the lieutenant offered with a weak smile.

* * *

"Here they come!" shouted Sergeant Fuyumichi as two B-25's loomed into view, rapidly descending to get a clear shot at the battleship.

For her part, the battleship watched with intense interest. Both guns, as powerful as the soldiers trumpeted them as for the purpose of shooting down aircraft, were infinitely smaller than her own. Either the soldiers vastly overestimated the killing potential of their artillery, or her guns were sorely unsuited for such duties.

One thing for sure, these airplanes were far larger than anything she had seen during her time in the IJN. They had a single pair of wings plated in metal instead of two flimsily-designed sets, with propellers popping out along the wings to provide propulsion.

These weren't airplanes by any stretch of her imagination. No, they were _battleships_ of the sky.

And they were headed straight for her.

 _Kthunk._

Without warning, the gun they called the "M51," a gun so small even her Hotchkiss could almost outmatch it, roared to life. Unfortunately, its salvo missed spectacularly, the shell exploding violently in between the incoming planes.

She winced, expecting to hear panic as they frantically struggled to reload the cannon…

 _Kthunk. Kthunk._

But the M51 fired again, completely undeterred by the inconvenience of reloading. Her eyes widened in understanding. These guns were not hindered by the burden of having to insert to manually load a shell after each round, nor by the need to recalculate the range each time.

There was a groan from the leftmost bomber as the M51 hit home with the fourth round, penetrating its metal shell and wreaking havoc on its engines. The plane swayed and lurched, smoking billowing from its sides.

Yet even _that_ was not enough to stop the plane in its tracks, and it limped on as its partner made a beeline for them.

 _Four kilometers. Three kilometers and a half. Three kilometers…_

Mikasa began to quietly calculate the range of the inbound bombers. They were incredibly fast, but she would raise hell before she would let those bombers touch a hair on those soldiers.

 _FWOOM._

 _She glanced warningly at the distant cruiser as it took experimental shots at her. The Russian vessel had been a terribly poor shot, but the salvo had ungracefully doused her bridge with a spray of water._

 _"_ _Five kilometers!" came the shout._

 _"_ _Five kilometers!" roared the officer._

 _Mikasa grinned evilly as her twelve inch guns stood at attention, their sights shadowing the enemy vessel as she began to make a hasty escape._

 _Tcktcktcktck._ _Tcktcktcktck._

The Bofors to her stern burst to life before she even had time to react, spewing shells the instant the planes entered its kill zone. Like the M51, the ancient weapon politely informed the abyssals that they were unwelcome at Yokosuka. The injured bomber was a goner, the forty millimeter gun shredding its wings clean off its frame.

At that, she immediately understood why the soldiers had put so much faith in their painfully light artillery. The guns were in their home element facing such planes. Not even the skilled maneuvers of the remaining bomber could prevent it from eating the metal rain.

Or so she thought.

"Shoot it down! Shoot it down!" Fuyumichi barked as the lone abyssal barreled towards them in a smoking black tornado.

"We can't! The damn airframe's is truly a B-25's! It's going to-"

 _Boom._

There was a sharp explosion as the sinister carcass dove straight into the unsuspecting truck that the JSDF had manned in order to mobilize the M51.

"Kuchiba!" a soldier bolted over and began frantically shaking the face-down driver.

" _M'okay, m'okay,"_ the driver murmured.

"Damn, that was a close one," Satake muttered.

" _Too_ close," Sergeant Fuyumichi grimaced. "Worst yet, our ammunition's gone," he stated, pointing to the vehicle's remains as it disappeared into a shower of sparks.

Unnoticed, Lieutenant Gasa bit her lip, her jaw contorted in a clear expression of frustration.

* * *

 _Fwish. Fwish. Fwish. Fwish._

"Rockets? Seriously?!" a sailor shouted incredulously at his partner.

"Tōgō said that it's not unreasonable as apparently the Indians used them to make the British soil their trousers in the 1800's! Plus they were experimented with during the World Wars, so the abyssals _can_ feel them!"

"Then it makes complete sense why we're completely missing our targets!"

"Not that it matters, they're avoiding the waterfront!"

When the defenders of Yokosuka began the AA barrage at the first sighting of the inbound Mitsubishi G4M's and B-25's, they immediately understood why the devices were still prototypes. They were essentially the product of anything and everything that could remotely constitute as "air defense": nine millimeter bullets, disc-shaped fragments that whizzed about, shrapnel, a group of what looked like bashed-up 20mm Oerlikons arranged to form an organ-like ribault, and rockets. In comparison to conventional anti-aircraft weapons, which Yokosuka was virtually lacking due to the systems' mobilization to Greater Tokyo, the prototypes were horrifically outdated.

However, the symphony of projectiles had one crucial result: they could quickly deny the abyssals aerial maneuverability, which the B-25's promptly acknowledged by skirting about the extremities of their line of fire. Even then one or two bombers shuddered as the ordnance hit home, the planes unable to freely shrug them off.

Regrettably, this did not render the naval base impervious to further abyssal attacks. There was the signature whistle of incoming bombs, followed shortly thereafter with an ominous roar.

"They're targeting the kanmusu docks! Protect them at all costs, hurry!"

One of the officers swore as the prototype he was overseeing jammed.

"Where the hell is Tōgō when you need her?"

* * *

 _Shitshitshit._

She panted furiously as she skipped down the flight of stairs, instinctively covering her head at the sound of each bomb making landfall.

They should have known that the abyssals wouldn't intend to level the whole base; even with sixty bombers they would be hard pressed to damage it beyond repair.

No, they were after something far more vital, the bread and butter to any base…

"Damn!" she lashed out as someone collided with her.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," he said softly. "I just came back from the Operations Room. Nagato received our emergency transmission, they're on their way back now."

"Nagato won't get here until it's too late, Lieutenant Iyo," she retorted with grit teeth. "Now if you will excuse me…"

 _Why wasn't she like her great-great grand uncle? Why were her predictions always wrong? She was a checkers master among chess players…_

Tōgo yanked the lock to the door guarding the room she had been seeking out. The abyssals may steal their cake, but she wouldn't let them eat it too.

"Nyan!" she shouted as she banged the door. It opened to reveal a small fairy staring at her through her tiny glasses.

"Take me to The Room. Hurry!"

Wordlessly the fairy pulled her through row after row of shelves containing old kanmusu riggings and other equipment the military had discarded before stopping at a tiny oak door. She opened it, shining a dim yellow light at the items within.

"Move out everything you can, especially _those_ ," the Lieutenant jabbed a giant finger in the distant corner. "We don't have much time!"

 _Thud._

"Desu Desu!" the fairy waved frantically as one of the boxes she was carrying got hopelessly stuck in the doorway.

"On the count of three, I'll pull. Ready?"

"One…"

"Two…"

There was shrill whistle, followed by a sickening thud, as something pierced the roof and entered the ceiling above them.

* * *

She grinned wickedly as she watched the building collapse into a burning heap, which was followed moments later by a colossal clap of thunder, the result of the bombers striking the base's fuel reserves.

The base's warehouse had been completely wiped out, the new "technologies" those humans wished to develop vanishing along with it.

She flicked her eyes away from the view her hellfighter had given her as an abyssal approached.

[They've shot down four of my bombers! Admiral, I beg you to let my planes retreat!]

"Under normal circumstances I would agree, my good Wo carrier, but I have you given you a special task. Keep analyzing that technology; with the information you are receiving we will make sure that those four losses will be your last."

* * *

"Lieutenannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnntttttttttt!"

Katsuragi blinked, trying to pay little heed to Yūbari's anguished cries behind her. There was no doubt in her mind that Tōgō was gone. Only two things could explode so spectacularly on base, the workshop where the three scientists had made their home and the base's fuel reserves, both of which had been so clearly destroyed the exhausted kanmusu fleet could see the twin mushroom clouds across the bay.

However, there was still one thing she could do to avenge her.

 _Tap. Tap._

On her flight deck stood sixteen fairies, each quivering with unrestrained rage as they entered the cockpits of their planes. It was time to give the abyssals payback.

"You'll pay for this," she hissed, watching each plane zip off her deck. Katsuragi had hoped to use them earlier when the abyssals first started their bombing runs, but her officers begged her to let the exhausted pilots rest. Now she had paid the price.

They didn't have a name; like almost everything Tōgō touched in her spare time, the planes revolved around a "what if" scenario where the Kikka prototypes were made viable for older-style carriers. As a result, they were incredibly tiny, but also extremely agile and deadly. Katsuragi didn't know how, but Tōgō's latest model also somehow remedied the incredibly long take-off times that she had overheard Shōkaku and Zuikaku so frequently complained about.

And now the modified Kikka jets were giving the abyssals complete hell. They pranced about the skies, stalking each bomber before gunning it down mercilessly.

"Don't underestimate our power, you bitch!"

* * *

Second tapped her on the shoulder.

"Admiral, the kanmusu are putting up a stiff resistance again. It seems that our success has somehow reenergized them!"

"Too little, too late, my dear cruiser," she chuckled. "What about in the park? I heard the JSDF has been particularly active in that sector."

"A probe by two of our bombers was repulsed, Admiral. It seems they are protecting the battleship in the park."

"Ah, yes, Mikasa Park…" she breathed. "You there," she patted another abyssal carrier on the back. "Order a squadron of your special-type D3A/B-25/G4M hybrids to re-arm. A mix of torpedoes and bombs if you will; your choice on the exact numbers. Get to it!"

* * *

They silently watched as the naval base exploded in a shower of sparks in the distance.

"I wish I could have been there," she said sadly.

"Couldn't be helped," Fuyumichi grunted. "With your bad legs and our dinosaur equipment, we probably would have at best created a slightly smaller explosion."

"But the personnel…"

"I'm sure they'll be all right. Besides, our orders are to stay at the park. It seems to be the one place where things haven't gone wrong today."

"Spoke too soon, Sergeant." Satake pointed at the squadron of abyssals approaching from the bayside.

"Damn it…and when we're out of ammo too…make every shell count!" The sound of metal hitting metal told the men that was the least of their problems.

"Shit, they're flying too low, the guns can't depress fast enough!"

 _Ratatatatatatatatatata_

"Take cover, save yourselves!" Fuyumichi roared as the phantom bombers' noses opened fire, pelting the park with a hail of bullets.

The soldiers did not need to be told twice, breaking step to the cover of the shaded wood behind them.

As before, all except one.

"Lieutenant Gasa," Fuyumichi called in warning as the officer remained stationary aboard the battleship, "don't you try and be a hero now…"

"A hero?" She gave a hollow laugh and smiled at him. "I've been anything but a hero today. Watching, waiting…"

 _Creaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkk_

"I've had _enough._ "


	6. The Homecoming: Zulu

**A/N:** I'm posting Parts 4 _and_ Parts 5 together as they are matching counterparts to each other. If you see a P5 in the chapter section title but haven't read P4, go back a chapter!

We're almost done with "The Homecoming"; there's only two more parts to wrap it up and then we'll get into things.

* * *

 _It was 2:00 in the afternoon._

 _She could see the entire Russian fleet, their turrets and deck cannons poised and ready to shoot at them._

 _"_ _There is no turning back now," Admiral Tōgō stated firmly, letting his binoculars fall to his chest. "Like the soldiers of Toba-Fushimi, we have committed ourselves to a cause that we think is right for our nation. We will fight until the day is won, or the cause lost."_

 _He glanced up and down at the other officers assembled upon Mikasa's bridge. "The Empire's fate depends upon the result of this battle. Let everyone do their utmost duty," he finished softly, avoiding Mikasa's gaze._

 _Captain Hikojirō licked his lips nervously. Everyone on the bridge knew the entire weight of the Russian Empire was bearing down upon them. Tsar Nicholas II had sent eleven battleships to square off against their four._

 _"_ _Seven and a half kilometers!" roared an officer as he glanced through her rangefinders._

* * *

It was peculiar, seeing planes this close up. For all their explosive potential, they were tiny, smaller than even the tiniest torpedo boat she had ever seen.

"Three kilometers," she breathed.

* * *

 _Tōgō gave no response, instead gazing at the Russian fleet before them._

 _Mikasa tensed. She could sense the lead battleship, Knyaz Suvorov if her memory served her correctly, eagerly fine-tuning her gunners' aim as she sped towards her._

 _Suddenly the entire front of the Russian formation disappeared in a plume of smoke._

 _She winced as a shell bounced violently off her belt, failing to penetrate her nine-inch armor. Another two rounds plowed into the deck, but failed to cause any real damage._

 _"That was close," Tōgō said quietly, momentarily interrupting his focus to give her a concerned glance._

 _The admiral turned the sailor beside him. "Order the helmsman turn to port."_

 _"T-t-t-turn to port?!" Hikojirō spluttered. "Admiral, may I remind that there are three ranks of Russian ships ready to tear Mikasa apart the moment she shows her broadside?"_

 _"Captain, this is our last chance to cross their T. We will not be able to stand up to them in a prolonged linear engagement."_

 _Hikojirō merely swallowed at that statement._

 _"_ _Mikasa, signal to Shikishima, Asahi, and Fuji. Order them to follow our lead, and closely."_

 _Mikasa waved at Shikishima, who only gave her a weary grin in reply. The cheeky battleship had never been the same after she lost her sister…_

 _"_ _This is an awful risk, Admiral Tōgō," Hikojirō warned, having recovered from his initial shock._

 _"_ _No great rewards come without risks, Captain," Tōgō replied, his face expressionless as the battleship turned about sharply. "Trafalgar was not won without Nelson ordering his fleet to cleave the Franco-Spanish armada in two."_

 _"_ _Seven kilometers!"_

 _The Russian fleet opened fire once more, landing hits on the battleship with surprising accuracy. Mikasa cried out as a shell pierced the side of her deck and exploded, killing some sailors manning a twelve-pound cannon. Another landed at the base of the bridge, dealing damage that transformed into a visible gash on her forehead._

* * *

 _Ratatatatatatatatatata_

She closed her eyes nonchalantly as the bomber's bullets danced around her, bouncing off her body as if she was wearing a metal cuirass.

Their 12.7 millimeter bullets did not concern her; they were but mere specks in the breeze.

She smiled as she sensed the planes panicking, failing to anticipate her superhuman resistance to their ordnance.

They could be forgiven, for she was not human.

Many years ago, she had entered this world to protect an upstart nation. Now, she could, and would, protect it once more. She was a battleship, the nation's pride and joy, and its protector.

"Two and a half kilometers."

* * *

 _"_ _Mikasa…" Hikojirō called out worriedly._

 _"_ _I'm fine," she insisted. "It's the men I'm worried about," jerking her head at the scene below._

 _Admiral Tōgō smiled before giving her a warning glance. "Remember that even Tomoe Gozen bleeds, Mikasa."_

 _Captain Hikojirō, on the other hand, seemed unconvinced. He looked at the deck below where the crew was looking up at them expectantly, occasionally ducking as Russian ordnance whizzed overhead._

 _"_ _Admiral, order the fleet to open fire now. Mikasa's already taking a beating; if you wait any longer we won't be able to last long at that close of a range!"_

 _"_ _No!" the battleship protested hotly. "Let them come closer. We're almost done repositioning," pointing at Asahi, who mouthed that everyone was ready. "I-we-can bring all of our guns to bear, but the Russians can't. Let us dictate the terms of the engagement!"_

 _"_ _I am sorry, Mikasa, but you have let your overconfidence deceive you." Hikojirō retorted. "Please, Admiral, order the gunners to fire now!"_

 _Admiral Tōgō, who had remained impassive during the entire argument, suddenly raised his right hand. Both Mikasa and Captain Hikojirō fell silent._

 _There were only the sounds of Mikasa's boilers and the water churning beneath them for conversation. Even the Russian fleet entered a state of listlessness._

 _Her heart (or whatever was the spiritual equivalent of one) beated faster. They were closing the distance._

 _Six kilometers and nine hundred meters._

 _Six kilometers and eight hundred meters._

 _Six kilometers and seven hundred meters._

 _Six kilometers and six hundred meters._

 _"Six and a half kilometers!" an officer shouted, breaking the silence. Tōgō's hand slowly swayed in the air as if it was a flag before plummeting to his waist._

 _In that moment everyone knew, she knew, what had to be done._

* * *

There was a groan beneath her followed by the clanging of metal on metal. She watched as the inanimate figures around her come to life, invigorated by her old memories to answer the call to battle. Moments later came the satisfactory sound of shells sliding into place inside her guns, ready to be discharged at her orders.

Her entire broadside of 12 inch, 6 inch, 12 pound, and Hotchkiss guns turned to face the bombers.

"Two kilometers. My turn," she beamed.

* * *

 _She would never hear Kaimon tell her another story about Japan's heroes, of how Takeda Shingen was forced to fight in hand-to-hand combat with a fan after Usuegi Kenshin had stormed his tent, her voice silenced by a mine at Port Arthur._

 _Yashima's hilarious impressions of Juliet, or her terrifying depictions of an anguished Hamlet, would never be witnessed by anyone ever again, for she now slept silently in the sea below._

 _Shikishima would never be the same playful terror she had always been at Sasebo, her innocence gone in the summer breeze._

 _There would be no regrets, no anger, no sorrow, and no remorse as she plunged shell after shell into the Knyaz Suvorov, her face expressionless as the Russian battleship wailed and crumpled under her devastating volleys._

* * *

She did not care that these planes were responsible for the destruction of Yokosuka Naval Base.

She did not care that each of them carried a payload that could tear her apart at the slightest contact.

They were nothing compared to her opponents that day, and nothing they would forever remain.

For the first time in more than a century, Mikasa fired her guns in anger.

* * *

Goto froze at the thunderous boom. It was far different from the explosions that had marked this gloomy battle. No, it was a symphony of the sound of artillery, _ancient_ artillery, resounding throughout the bay.

"Do you hear that?" Admiral Stephens buzzed incredulously.

"There's only one thing that can make that ruckus," the Prime Minister added, "and it's sealed in concrete in a certain park."

"I-I-I can't explain it!" protested Sergeant Fuyumichi.

"Sergeant, you better have an explanation on how a ship that _doesn't even have a working engine_ is suddenly firing," the Minister of Defense demanded.

"But I can't! Somehow Lieutenant Gasa is operating-"

"Lieutenant Gasa? _There is no Lieutenant Gasa in Tokyo serving in the JSDF, Sergeant!"_ he roared.

"But she insists she's from the JMSDF!"

"Is that what she _said_ , or is that what she _implied_?" Goto asked gently.

"Admiral Goto," the Prime Minister stated slowly, "if I understand what you're implying, you're saying that-"

"Yes."

"We can't be too certain," the Minister of Defense cautioned.

"How else do you explain the sounds of Hotchkiss guns going off?" Goto asked. "I'm pretty sure there's no ammo for those weapons remaining on the _Mikasa_."

The Minister of Defense remained silent.

"I found out half an hour ago that I lost Tōgō," Goto said slowly, though his agitation clearly rising, "I'd be a fool to lose Mikasa as well."

More silence.

"Fuyumichi, I'll be there with a team momentarily. Try and hang in there," Goto ordered.

"Will do," the Sergeant nervously replied.

* * *

Katsuragi blinked and then shook her head. For whatever reason, she was hearing a strange sound. It was neither the sound of aircraft, both friendly and abyssal, splashing into the sea, nor the kanmusu's guns going off.

"It's coming from Mikasa Park," Ushio said quietly.

"Of course it is," Akebono snapped in a brief burst of liveliness, "how many other things can you identify that can make such shitty sounds?"

"It sounds wonderful," Yamashiro whispered.

Katsuragi agreed. There was something beautiful about the deep booms of _Mikasa's_ 12 inch rifles balanced by the pitter-patter of her 6 inch guns. Then there was the sound of her 12 pounders, which rhythmically fired to the beat of the carrier's pistons.

It was _hope._

"Amagi, Unryū, do you have any planes left?" Both of them nodded.

"A group of Model 52s and some Tenzans."

"Just some Suisei."

"Pilots?" Again they nodded, although they emphatically pointed to the pitiful handful of pilots remaining on their flight decks.

"Amagi, try and see if your fighters can slip past these waves of bombers and provide aerial support. However the hell those idiots got that battleship in combat condition is beyond me, but we can't lose this opportunity. As for your Tenzans and Suisei, order them to follow the one or two jets I'm dispatching. I want to give that fucker a bloody nose before she slinks off."

* * *

 _"_ _Mikasa."_

 _No regrets._

 _No anger._

 _No remorse._

 _"_ _Mikasa!" His sharp voice awoke her from her mechanical stupor._

 _Admiral Tōgō looked at her worriedly._

 _"_ _Cease fire. The enemy is beaten," he said, pointing at the Russian fleet sinking all around them, the remainder surrendering or retreating in disarray. "We need to rescue survivors."_

 _She looked at him curiously in confusion before nodding. "You are right. I'll tell 'Shiki, Fuji, and Asahi to restrain from further volleys."_

 _Asahi was the easiest to convince to stand down, having sated her sense of duty early on in the battle with her accurate broadsides._

 _Shikishima was a harder case, but eventually relented, acknowledging that with the slaying of Oslyabya she had enacted vengeance for Hatsuse._

 _Fuji, however, who had been in a perpetual state of shock since the morning she had discovered her sister's untimely death, was unable to demonstrate such restraint._

 _"_ _THIS IS FOR YASHIMA, YOU BASTARDS!" she screeched with tears in her eyes, and fired one last volley of the remaining battleships._

 _Mikasa would never forget her shock, or their collective shock, as the volley struck home, causing the battleship to disintegrate in an almighty explosion, her magazine apparently detonated._

 _There was a wave of murmuring at the sight of the explosion._

 _"_ _Mikasa, Fuji destroyed the Borodino," Tōgō said softly._

 _The battleship shook her head in disbelief. One of Russia's newest gems in its Baltic Fleet, and yet she had met a short and violent end._

 _Just like Hatsuse. Just like Yashima._

* * *

 _Splish. Splash._

Ten planes had been sent against her, and ten planes had been wiped out of existence by her guns.

It had been far easier than the soldiers had made it seem. They had flown low, so low that they almost touched the water, expecting her to be petrified with fear at their approach. Once she was certain that they would not attempt any last-minute maneuvers she opened fire, where all of them were immediately caught by her volleys of Hotchkiss and 12 pound guns. Any that were quick enough to evade fell to her larger guns, which the planes were far too close to escape the massive ordnances.

Then she heard another wave of droning, the sound of another air group attempting to engage. She smiled; it didn't matter what they sent at her, she would take it down.

There was a high-pitched whine of engines as something emerged from behind them, another reinforcing squadron by the looks of it.

"Send in everything you've got. I'll protect these soldiers with my dying breath."

But the newcomers didn't take any interest in the battleship. As if possessed by some intense hatred of the first air group, they quickly swooped down on the unsuspecting bombers, causing them to flee in disarray.

"What…a trick…I won't fall for that," she growled.

Mikasa turned her turrets skyward, ready to give the aircraft a pleasant greeting. Then she saw something that made her freeze dead in her tracks: the red and white emblem she held so dearly.

"The Hinomaru," she whispered. For a moment she eyed the planes suspiciously, fearing that they too were the "phantoms" Fuyumichi had earlier informed her about, but relaxed when she saw the aircraft circle about rather than swoop in threateningly.

"It's the Kanmusu!"

"That's our Zeroes, boys! We've done it!" a soldier shouted.

The planes circled about a few more times before flying away to the cheers of everyone in the park.

"I have done my duty," she said quietly, propping herself up against a column.

* * *

Her hands trembled as she watched each plane disintegrate under the battleship's intense firepower.

[Impossible!] she screamed. [Her guns were not made for fighting aircraft, how did she dispose of them so easily?]

"You made a rookie mistake: you let your confidence consume you. At that altitude and speed, your planes were little more than yachts sailing in the breeze."

The carrier gulped as she turned to face her superior.

[Admiral, forgive me. The battleship…it appears to be fully operational. I am afraid I have lost all twenty-four of those special type bombers you gave me as well as their fighter escorts. Those Unryū carriers can fight.]

"Is that so," she grinned. "What an interesting turn of events. Sound the retreat."

The abyssal stared at her incredulously.

[Admiral, but my losses…you will not punish me?]

"You have done well," she smiled, "and everything cannot be any more perfect. Second, inform the Wo-class carriers that our mission is complete. It is time that we make our escape. Our diversion at Ogasawara will have reached its limits by now, and the enemy will be returning to base."

* * *

The rattle of footsteps clambering up the staircase to the battleship shook the main deck.

"Mikasa?!" someone shouted, running up and down in frantic search of her.

The battleship didn't hear them.

"So tired," she breathed. "So, so tired…and cold…"

"MIKASA?!" the shout was getting closer, yet more and more muffled…

"Rest," she smiled to herself.

The last thing she saw was the alarmed gaze of a middle-aged man and Sergeant Fuyumichi looming over her.

Then, darkness.


	7. The Homecoming: Hope and Uncertainty

**A/N:** I meant to post Part 6 earlier this week on Wednesday but didn't have enough time, therefore it's being released alongside Part 7 (also letting this story catch up to my original SpaceBattles thread a bit faster-we're getting close-ish now) These two fragments basically wrap up the conflict between the JMSDF and the Abyssals, at least for now.

Personally, I consider Part 6 to be more of a side-story addition to the story rather than a continuation of it, though there is plot advancement here.

* * *

"Admiral Goto," Sergeant Fuyumichi breathed heavily as they stared at the unresponsive officer sprawled out on _Mikasa's_ deck, "will she be alright?"

The admiral studied the young woman carefully, before catching note of the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"She's out like a light. I have no doubt Mikasa will be fine."

"So sorry…" Fuyumichi mumbled. "I didn't know…"

"Your error is forgivable, Sergeant. Most kanmusu tend to have a more…explicit arrival," he replied, the memory of a young brunette dashing into the fray with guns blazing to save his ship the JDS _Kongō_ from certain destruction entering his mind.

"If she is a kanmusu, then where was her rigging?" Satake demanded, folding his arms as he approached them. "Besides, she was able to _turn_ and _fire_ the ship's cannons in spite of the fact they've been completely gutted. I thought kanmusu were entirely _independent_ from their old hulls."

"I cannot answer that," Goto sighed. "There is no doubt in my mind that Mikasa has returned to us, but her arrival has left me with more questions than answers. However," he turned to Satake and Sergeant Fuyumichi, "now is not the time for such musings. Help me take her to the Naval Hospital; at present they have the only accommodations available in Yokosuka."

"I didn't sign up to lift several thousand ton women," Satake remarked as the three of them began to carry the senseless battleship to the awaiting car.

Goto raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "As an admiral of kanmusu, I believe I can state with authority that she is remarkably light for a spirit. Even the Akatsuki-class destroyers are heavier than she is."

"I agree, she's as light as a pillow. Not that I'm complaining," Fuyumichi chimed in quickly, fearfully eyeing their charge as if it she might murder them at the subject of their conversation.

Goto's aide opened the back doors as the trio neared their destination.

"Goto and I will take it from here," he called to the soldiers. "You troopers deserve some rest."

After gracefully laying her in the back seat, Fuyumichi and his men waved goodbye, and the car sped away.

* * *

Katsuragi turned around as she heard the sound of whistling and cheering in the distance. Destroyer Squadron 15 was still firing and launching missiles, but many of its sailors had gathered on the ships' decks as the crews hugged and waved at each other.

"They're retreating!" the captain of the _Curtis Wilbur_ reported excitedly. "I don't know how or why, but the abyssals seem to be calling off the attack!"

"With so many aircraft left?" Ōyodo asked suspiciously. "They have ample reserves to have another go at Tokyo…"

Katsuragi turned to her sister. "Amagi, I don't hear _Mikasa_ firing anymore. What's going on?"

"The Park's fine! The JSDF repelled the abyssals, and the battleship's intact! What about my planes?"

"I haven't seen anything," she grumbled in annoyance. "And I thought I had a good lead, too…"

"Well, I'm going to snag some abyssals then," Amagi stated, elevating her flight deck to relaunch her fighters.

"Amagi, Katsuragi, look!" Unryū pointed at a large group of hellfighters that furtively snuck away from the rest of the horde, "I think they're taking a shortcut back to the carriers!"

"On it! Don't let them escape!"

* * *

 _Tap. Tap._

[Hm?] she glanced quizzingly at the little girl.

"Order your bombers to swing around and give the kanmusu a drop. Admiral's Orders."

[But didn't she just order us to recall our aircraft?]

"Do you want to tell her you're disobeying her commands or should I?"

[U-u-understood.]

* * *

Akebono's ears perked up.

"Hang on, I'm hearing something-"

"ENEMY PLANES! OVERHEAD! DIVE-BOMBING!"

"Where did they come from?"

"Amagi and Katsuragi, bring over your Zeroes, NOW!"

"They're too far away, take evasive action!"

"Hard to starboard!"

"Too late!"

"Sister!"

"Why is it always me?" Yamashiro wailed as she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

"What the bloody hell do you **THINK YOU ARE DOING**?" She grabbed the unfortunate carrier by the throat.

[T-T-Third said you ordered me to do so.] The abyssal whimpered.

"I did no such thing," she snarled. "and I will _not_ be replacing your aircraft that you so foolishly lost in this moment," she added, watching the kanmusu shoot down the remaining planes.

"I did, commander."

"You?" She stared in disbelief at the little girl. "But why?"

"Admiral," she pulled her bright hair behind her ears, "don't you think it's time to see them suffer? To realize the futility in protecting _them_?"

"They are _already_ suffering. _I_ made them suffer. Anything additional attempts like you just tried would just give the enemy more hints on our location. Now please Third, do not contradict my orders again."

* * *

"Hoses broken. Pumps are shot. Engine is down. I'm done for," Yamashiro wept. She felt herself feel more and more unsteady as she began to list. It would be a painful way to go down, with her legs heavy from flooding while her entire head was in flames from the bomber's incendiary weaponry.

"Not yet," came a low growl. She felt herself get shoved violently as something pulled up alongside her.

"Come along you shitty battleship, you're not dying on me," Akebono grumbled, her fairies frantically hosing down the dreadnought's head and superstructure as they attached cables to her broadside.

"Akebono," Ōyodo warned, "you're just a destroyer, let one of us-"

"I've got this under control, thank you very much," she snapped. "I can do something right for once, you know."

"It's a good distance to the coast…" Fusō said worriedly.

"It's just another kilometer. No problem."

"Too far…a…long way…can't go on…" Yamashiro panted, fading into and out of consciousness.

"Akebono, we can make room for her on of our _Arleigh-Burke_ s. Head towards us; it's her best chance!"

"She's about to pass out; you won't be able to carry her aboard in this state since she'll nearly weigh as much as her original displacement. I _have_ to make it to the shore."

"Your best hope is beaching her and letting her sink in shallow water. There's a chance she won't die in that scenario."

"A chance is not a guarantee. With my shitty luck we'd lose her!"

"Then what do you plan to do, Akebono?"

* * *

 _The Pacific, 1944_

 _"_ _We'll be approaching their position shortly, commander. The convoy will be just ahead."_

 _The captain remained quiet, his lips smashed together in a thin line._

 _"_ _Let us hope that things will go as planned, ensign."_

 _Akebono silently agreed, refusing to utter a sound that would alert the men to her presence. She felt incredibly guilty for the sailors' misfortune, even though the navy would never acknowledge her as being at fault._

 _She should have said no to her sister's request back at the Coral Sea. It was Ushio who was supposed to escort Shōkaku, not her. Unfortunately, before she could decide, the sailors in the radio room had decoded the destroyer's message and, mistaking it for the captain's own, immediately agreed to her demand._

 _And they had paid for it. A court martial, a reassignment, and murmurs of bad luck followed her crew wherever they went._

 _But what would blaming her sister do? She should be glad that she still had-_

 _BOOM._

 _A massive geyser buried Sazanami, who had been steaming just ahead of her, in a spray of water and smoke._

 _"_ _SAZANAMI!"_

 _"_ _No way," an officer hissed as the bridge watched the leading destroyer groaned and began to list. "An attack en route to Truk…"_

 _"_ _Make way to approach the Sazanami. We'll need to rescue survivors," the captain sighed, his face emotionless._

 _"_ _But the tanker convoy!"_

 _"_ _They can wait. It would dishonorable to leave our own men to their fate, especially with us so close."_

 _"_ _Akebono…" Her eyes twitched as she heard Sazanami's cracked voice croak feebly through the radio. "It was…it was a submarine…tell…tell your officers…run for it…protect the convoy…don't worry about…us."_

 _"_ _And let that shitty monster get away with this? I'll kill her for this!"_

 _"…_ _you know…" her voice trailed off._

 _"_ _Sazanami?"_

 _"_ _SAZANAMI?"_

 _She watched as something resurface in the distance, taking in the carnage unfolding around it._

 _"_ _You…!" Before Akebono could stop herself, she began unloading depth charge after depth charge into the awaiting projectors where her crew tossed them into the sea, furiously attempting to engage their unseen enemy._

 _That day, she paid for letting her emotions get the better of her._

 _Not only did she lose her sister, but the bulk of the convoy she was supposed to escort as well._

 _The submarine was never found, even though more than fifty-nine depth charges had been discharged._

 _If only she had listened to her sister…  
_

 _No…_

 _NO…_

* * *

 _This time was_ _ **different**_ _._

"I'm going to run for it."

"Run for it?"

 _Come on come on, how far is one kilometer?_

 _Nine hundred meters._

 _Eight hundred meters._

 _Seven hundred meters._

 _Six hundred meters._

"Akebono, take them," Yamashiro whispered as her crew began to abandon ship, jumping onto the destroyer's shoulders.

"We can make it."

 _Five hundred meters._

 _Four hundred meters._

"I've accepted my fate," Yamashiro moaned, bowing over in an attempt to remain upright.

"No. You won't die," she growled. "I saw that too many times back then, and I'm not seeing it now!"

 _Three hundred meters._

 _Two hundred meters._ She felt their movement slow to a crawl as the water shallowed.

 _No no no no._

 _One hundred and fifty meters._

"Remaining crew, abandon your posts!"

"No! To your positions! Just a little longer!"

 _One hundred meters._

 _Ninety meters._

 _Eighty meters._

 _Seventy meters._

 _Sixty meters._ Akebono found her left shoulder nearly touching the water as Yamashiro began to become submerged.

"Please…just a little more power to the engines…"

 _Fifty meters._

 _Forty meters._

 _Thirty meters._

 _Twenty meters._

 _Ten meters._

 _Thump._

"You shitty battleship, we made it!"

Both of them stumbled over a rocky outcrop and fell to the solid ground below them. Yamashiro sobbed in relief, clinging to it for dear life.

"For once…we are fortunate," she sniffed.

"Well done, Akebono," Ōyodo radioed in congratulations. "Now, if only we can find the abyssals…"

"Don't need to tell me twice," muttered Katsuragi.

* * *

Goto glanced at the back of the vehicle as he heard a jangling sound. It was her "dog tag."

The admiral inspected it before loudly smacking his face.

"A problem, Admiral?" the sailor inquired.

"That Fuyumichi," he groaned. "I can't decide if he's a blockhead or not. 'Gasa Jin.' When arranged according to English nomenclature, it translates into 'Jin Gasa'. Jingasa. _War Hat_. Now factor in her purported rank, Third Lieutenant. _Three War Hats_."

"I don't fully follow," his driver apologized.

"You probably don't think about it too much since it's mainly a mountain, but 'mikasa' can also refer archaically to 'three bamboo hats'. Three bamboo hats, three war hats. It's basically the equivalent of Kongō pretending to be someone else by calling herself Bongo."

The sailor laughed. "Well commander, at the very least you can be assured that Mikasa is a bad liar."

* * *

"Admiral, there are reports that the kanmusu are attempting to identify our position," Second warned. "My scout planes have detected Seiran and Zuiun from the west and a group of Suisei/Tenzans from the north."

"Then it is time to put on our disappearing act," she clasped her hands together in glee.

* * *

"Come on, come on," Katsuragi hissed as her pilots scoured the surrounding waters for any trace of the attackers.

Attempting to follow the hellfighters back had been pointless; it didn't take long for the abyssals to catch on to her plans and send them all about on a wild good chase. Amagi and Unryū spent all afternoon chasing the bombers into Sagami Bay before finally accepting the futility of further pursuit.

Now night was fast approaching, and they still had no idea who they were facing nor where they had concealed themselves for so long.

"I think I've found something!" one of the pilots chirped excitedly. "Four o'clock, eight masses in the west!"

"Investigate," she pressed him.

There was a sigh of annoyance from the pilot's radio.

"It's not them," he answered crestfallenly.

"Katsuragi, 'sup? Did we make it in time~?"

"Um, I-401 here, is Yokosuka still standing?"

"Katsuragi, what is it?" Unryū asked tiredly as she saw her sister's face turn red with rage.

"Damn Kure reinforcements," she slapped her leg furiously.

"If that's the case, then the enemy must have retreated," Ōyodo sighed. "Otherwise, our aircraft wouldn't have been able to make contact so soon."

"Then let's turn back," Yūbari replied gloomily, steaming towards the naval base. "Maybe Tōgō's still down there…" Wordlessly, the destroyers, Amagi, and Unryū followed suit.

"How unfortunate," Fusō sighed at the experimental cruiser's dejected form, "that we were unable to at least identify our attackers. We almost lost Yamashiro and Tōgō's as good as dead."

"Indeed," Ōyodo nodded in agreement. "It's best that we report to Goto now. Who knows what the situation on base is since the attack."

"He hasn't communicated with you at all?" Fusō gasped in surprise.

"No, the last transmission I heard was that he was heading to Mikasa Park." She slowed her pace to look glance back at the unmoving silhouette of Katsuragi.

"I'll be coming in a minute," she called out to their retreating forms, "I'm going to make another round and give Suzuya and Shioi a piece of my mind."

"It's not their fault," Ōyodo chided her, "but stay safe. Don't linger too long now, okay?"

"Not if I can't help it."

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, Mikasa can mean "three bamboo hats" if divided into "mi" and "kasa".


	8. The Homecoming: The Admiral's Assessment

**A/N:** I meant to post Part 6 earlier this week on Wednesday but didn't have enough time, therefore it's being released alongside Part 7 (see the previous chapter). These two fragments basically wrap up the conflict between the JMSDF and the Abyssals, at least for now.

This is the final installment of the story's introductory arc. It will probably come across as a bit drier than earlier pieces, but it provides some pretty important insight into the war's psyche. There's also some plot exposition to be found here.

We'll be getting into Mikasa's various activities shortly. If you've been waiting for Mikasa-interacting-with-the-other-shipgirls/modern life/customs/etc., it'll be coming soon!

* * *

It was midnight by the time he arrived at the entrance to his office.

"Still a couple more hours until Nagato and the fleet arrive," he sighed, dusting off his cap.

He had a long day, and a longer night ahead of him.

It had taken several hours for him, the sailors, and the medical staff at the Yokosuka Naval Hospital to get Mikasa situated. Admiral Goto would have preferred to have the battleship rest in the base's hot baths that the kanmusu frequently visited after their battles, but at present they were covered under several tons of debris from the battle earlier that morning. He was satisfied with the hospital's alternative, a special pool dedicated in the case kanmusu ever, well…

Admiral Goto shook his head, annoyed at the places his mind wandered off. The pool was the perfect compromise between his tastes and reality, regardless of whether or not that was its intentional purpose. No one had come to an agreement over whether or not she was human, kanmusu, or something else altogether, but the therapeutic warmth and shallowness of the pool would be conducive to Mikasa's recovery regardless of what she was. At best, she would return to her senses over the next few days; at worst, she would have some relaxation in the bath.

With Mikasa's situation out of the way, it was now time to turn his attention to more pressing matters, such as the exhausted kanmusu sleeping in the hallways and gloomy personnel shadowing them. Some sailors were comforting a disconsolate lieutenant, who was weeping openly in the doorway to his office.

The lieutenant shrieked and ran towards the admiral, prostrating the ground before him.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" he sobbed. "I should have known where she was going…I could have stopped her." One of the sailors who had been restraining the lieutenant approached them.

"Lieutenant Iyo blames himself for Lieutenant Tōgō's death, sir," he explained quietly. "We've been trying to cheer him up for a few hours now, but well…he's a train wreck."

Admiral Goto bowed his head in acknowledgement. He understood Lieutenant Iyo perfectly; his good friend Captain Yonehara had taken years to fully forgive himself for permitting a lifelong friend to undertake a suicide mission to save the destroyer they had both been serving on. The admiral did the only thing he could.

"Lieutenant Iyo," he gave the young officer's hair an affectionate ruffle. "It was not your fault. We all did our duty today; it was just by cruel fate that some of our duties placed us in the crosshairs of death. Tōgō is officially Missing in Action. Who knows, maybe she could have escaped the facilities and is ambling her way back now. Get some rest now Lieutenant, you did your part today." Giving a nod to the seamen around him, Goto watched as the sailors escorted the sniffling officer back to his quarters.

"You shouldn't have tried to give him hope," a voice reprimanded from within his office, "it will just crush him more when the news finally comes."

"I didn't say that for so much as for him than for myself, Ōyodo," he replied, digging into his drinking cabinet for a glass. "Kongō and I saw her almost like a child. She essentially was one as well, her intelligence aside."

Ōyodo didn't answer, instead focusing her gaze intently on the office radio in front of her. "It's good thing Yūbari is asleep now. She looked ready to single-handedly sift through all of the rubble in search of her herself."

"I still would have told her no," he frowned. "Do you know how many insane and dangerous projects the three of them work on behind my back in that workshop that they think I don't know about? Combine that with an emotionally unstable experimental cruiser, and you get a recipe where she's more likely to get killed than survive. That's to say nothing of the fuel explosion that happened almost simultaneously with the warehouse detonation. I felt the heat wave all the way from the other side of base. I don't care that we extinguished the fire before it could spread anywhere, I'd still tread through the area lighter than if I was in an active minefield."

He slumped back in his chair. "Akashi should be back tomorrow morning, anyhow. With her cranes and the help of the rest of the kanmusu fleet, we should find the Lieutenant in no time. Or her remains," he added quietly.

Admiral Goto's office fell silent, the only audible noise in the distance being the chorus of the Fusō sisters' and Katsuragi's snores.

"When did Suzuya get here?" the admiral asked, glancing at the tuft of blue hair peeking out from behind a well-placed sofa.

"Kure's reinforcements. She and I-401 didn't get here until the end, though."

"Ah. I was away from base when that happened; there was an emergency in Mikasa Park."

"Admiral, about that…what happened at the park?" the cruiser gave him an inquisitive look. "We heard her guns go off across the bay…was that the JSDF?"

Goto put down his glass. "Mikasa has returned, but for some reason she can still manipulate her physical hull rather than summon a rigging. She's in the naval hospital now since that's her best bet for recovery."

She gasped in surprise. "Does she know about-"

"No, and it's best that we don't tell her. Even if Tōgō survives, I'll doubt she'll ever be the same again. That reminded me," he sighed, "I need to check in with the Prime Minister and the others about the present situation."

"I'll stay," Ōyodo stated, remaining anchored to her seat. "I should be held accountable for the fleet's actions at Tokyo Bay today."

"No one blames any of you, Ōyodo. It was too big a task for too small a force. Nevertheless, permission granted." He played with the frequencies before finding the one he was looking for.

"Goto reporting in. How's Tokyo?"

"We're still assessing the city but it's surprisingly intact. Aside from a few wrecked buildings in Minato and the devastation in Chiyoda, the city could frankly return to normal by the end of this week, tomorrow even."

"That's a relief, Minister," the Prime Minister sighed. "I honestly thought we were looking at March 1945 all over again. How badly is Chiyoda damaged?"

"The abyssals bombed anything of political significance, including the Imperial Palace and the Diet Building, although both might be recoverable. What's strange is that neither of those buildings were the focus of their attacks. The National Archives was completely leveled; there's just a black crater where it once was."

"What were they so worried about," he chuckled, "did they think we would weaponize speeches of the Emperor or something?"

Goto's eyes widened in horror as it dawned on him. "They don't care about the speeches, they care about the fact it's a repository of our entire national history. Everything you can think of can be found in extreme detail if you really wanted to find it. Given how much abyssals like repeating history in our engagements…"

"It will be difficult clearly anticipating their moves," a cold voice finished.

"Ah, it seems the Chief of Staff has arrived. Goto was informing us of his revelations."

"So I heard," he replied, the sound of the commander firmly entering his seat rumbling through the radio. "Which brings me to the focus of my own concerns: Yokosuka Naval Base. It has come to my attention that it has sustained extensive damage under your watch, Goto."

"Considerable but not extensive damage," the admiral replied. "The abyssals destroyed our supply stores as well as the docks where kanmusu sortied out and rested, but everything else is untouched."

"A very strange but focused attack, if you ask me," Goto's supervisor commented, "almost as if it was by a surgeon making an incision around a cancerous tumor. What can you say in your defense about the destruction of the _Ōnami_ and the total loss of the _Amagiri?_ I've had to send out hundreds of letters today as a result of the attack. _"_

"Sir," Ōyodo chimed in, "that was _our_ fault. Given our experience fighting the abyssals, we should have been able to effectively repel them."

"Your opinion has been considered, kanmusu, but in the strictest military sense you girls are merely powerful assets, a unique _special forces_ if you will. Besides the fact that you are capable of superhuman strength and performing human operations with fewer casualties, there is little separating you from the conventional navy: both kinds of forces require orders from a commanding officer, whose opinion I am yet to hear."

"I gave both ships explicit orders not to fight unless they had no choice, sir," Goto replied with grit teeth, "I should not be blamed for managing things to the best of my ability while sustaining losses due to factors beyond my control."

There was a momentary pause.

"He's right," the Minister of Defense replied. "The _Ōnami_ and _Amagiri_ were explicitly deployed outside of harm's way. Many witnesses and survivors can attest that in spite of Goto's efforts the abyssals appeared to deliberately _attack_ both the destroyer and the cruiser. You should cut Admiral Goto some sla-"

"Cut Goto some slack? Cut Goto some slack?! The one day I away from the capital for business at Maizuru is the one day these damned abyssals attack and wreak havoc! I should have been _here,_ Minister. This was my _duty,_ and I _abandoned_ my forces to their fate. I lost good sailors today." The Chief of Staff burst into muffled sobs.

"And that's not all! Kure, Sasebo, and Maizuru also suffered attacks while this going on! They even timed their shitty assault on Maizuru the moment I boarded the train for Tokyo! Why was it _my_ men? How come Vice-Admiral Stephens wasn't affected?"

"Because they weren't after the Americans, or humanity in general. They were after _us_. It seems we have a new enemy," Goto remarked. "And a damn good one at that. Whoever coordinated this is a hell of a lot better than the abyssal princesses we've been fighting this entire time."

"Indeed. Surgical incisions, to use the Chief's words. I have but one more statement to make, then I shall be leaving it to you and Goto, Prime Minister. Admiral, we need to talk about Mikasa."

"What about her?"

"I talked with Sergeant Fuyumichi and his team earlier this evening while you were at the hospital and they told me that _she_ had returned."

"It's too early to say for certain, but it is a safe bet that such is the case. I'm planning to have Akashi check on her the moment the battleship comes to."

"Please inform me when she does. Japan needs every kanmusu we can get our hands on, and the public would celebrate her return like the second coming of Yamato herself. However, that was not the issue I wished to discuss with you about."

"I'm listening, Minister."

"Admiral Goto, did or did she not attempt to impersonate JSDF soldiers in the time before revealing herself?"

"In her defense, she couldn't have possibly known about-"

"Answer the question, Goto. Did she lie about her status in relation to the JSDF or did she not?"

"…Yes," he sighed.

"I am quite sure you are aware what the penalty is for such a crime?"

"…Yes," he answered again.

"Because Mikasa appears to have discouraged the enemy from conducting further assaults and protected the soldiers under her 'command,' I will be leaving her punishment for you to decide. However, do not be afraid to punish her heavily if you see fit; I would not want to give to the public the impression that kanmusu are allowed to act as they please with no respect to our laws."

"Sir, with all due respect, this is _Mikasa_ we are talking about. She was Yamato before Yamato was Yamato."

"I know Goto, I know, but rules are rules. It's all up to you of course, and I will bow down to your experience on whatever judgement you make. Just…don't give her a pass unless need be. Prime Minister, good night."

"What a night this must be for you," the man chuckled after checking if anyone else besides Goto was still listening. "First you find yourself defending more than thirteen million people with a fleet of kanmusu you can almost count with both hands! Then one of Japan's most legendary warships reveals herself! Finally, my cabinet members give you the beating of your life, even when I personally think you have done far better than any of us ever could with the resources at hand."

"I am glad that you are able to have such humor in these times, Prime Minister."

"Of course, it is an excellent trait to possess! However," he cleared his throat. "What they said is true. People died today, and money will have to be spent to repair the damage done, to say nothing of the considerable setback this appears to be for the JMSDF. The Diet has already scheduled a hearing for later this month. It's nothing I'd lose sleep over; they admire your service, to say the least. However, they just want to clarify that no negligence occurred, and then make commendations where they are due."

Goto merely grunted in acknowledgement.

"No doubt you'll find yourself padded with a medal or two, or maybe even a pay raise," the Prime Minister mused thoughtfully, "but I must say, this recent series of attacks is most perplexing. Surgical Incisions…to what end?"

* * *

The small girl fidgeted furiously, a fact that did not escape her notice.

"What is the matter, Third? Did you find our last mission too boring?"

"Success? Yokosuka still stands, the Americans still have their ships, Tokyo was barely touched except for that one moment you freaked out and decided to bomb their leader's palace, we gave the enemy a new ally, and you called our last mission a SUCCESS?"

"Oh indeed. Let me dissect your grievances one by one," she replied, pulling up a gloved hand for illustration.

"One, I didn't order the destruction of Yokosuka Base. I never had any intention of leveling Yokosuka Base. As ship girls are like us, they can make their home anywhere and everywhere. Destroying their residence would be…pointless, to say nothing of how difficult it would be to identify potential areas of strategic importance when collecting intelligence in the future. However, as the historical 'First Naval Base,' there are things of tactical significance that should be…surgically removed. Such as the warehouse where the JMSDF foolishly thought they could store old equipment and stockpile emergency resources such as high-grade fuel, fairy ammunition, and quality steel that the kanmusu consumed, to say nothing of the technology department being housed there that would have given us a headache in the future. You saw how impressive that simple anti-aircraft weapon was at forcing our bombers to keep a distance."

The girl's eyes widened in understanding. "So you mean-"

"Thanks to this operation, and several simultaneous operations I had ordered at some princesses who owed me favors, I have simultaneously wiped out Japan's capacity to stage any prolonged operation against us in the foreseeable future. Even if they want to, they simply no longer have the logistics to supply and feed the ship girls away from sea. They would have to incur financial costs and diplomatic favors to accomplish such a task, which as we know, will simply not happen."

She raised her index finger. "Two, the Americans still have their ships. Again, I was not concerned with their ships except during the initial bombing run. If the Americans had succeeded in thinning our numbers so soon, the defender's morale would have soared as those southern 'princesses' so rudely discovered. But neither of those were the biggest reasons for my passiveness towards them."

She produced a tiny square sheet of metal. "This is metal taken from the _Kunisaki_ when we sunk her a year ago. By itself it means nothing, but it shares a striking similarity to the _Amagiri_ and the _Ōnami._ They are both constructed from modern Japanese steel."

"I don't follow," Third stated bluntly.

"You may have heard reports that in the Mediterranean the abyssals are losing ground. That is no doubt the result of the Italian Navy, which in spite of theory suggesting otherwise they successfully summoned the modern destroyer and cruiser _Andrea Doria_. I have tried to identify possibilities for such an event, and have deduced it down to two factors: one the usage of steel contemporary to the spirit being summoned. Two," she drew Third towards her with a wicked grin, "a spirit removed in anguish from her physical hull. Yes, my dear commander, with the destruction of the _Ōnami_ and the devastation of the _Amagiri_ we now have the opportunity of adding our very own missile destroyers and cruisers to our force."

Third clapped in approval at this explanation.

"Three, I did not raze Tokyo. I see no point in bombing civilians whose deaths will do little more than stir resistance against our incursions. Were this a small settlement I would gladly agree, but here we would be stretching our forces thin. The destruction of Tokyo would require an air force far larger than our consortium of six-hundred aircraft, of which more than half were not bombers in any remote sense. However, I wanted to leave a clear reminder of their inferiority to us, that their leaders are helpless against our attacks, and so, that is why the devastation of Tokyo played out like it did," she said simply.

The little girl seemed ready to argue, but eventually conceded to her superior.

"As for _her_ arrival…it will be interesting, yes?" She smiled, her fingers surrounding her lips.

"You aren't going to take action?" Third demanded.

"No. _You know why_ ," she grinned, giving the girl a poke to the forehead.


	9. The Worker and the Urchin

_Semi-canon. It's currently canonical with the story, but it's subject to being retconned by later snippets if they happen to conflict.  
_  
 **A/N:** Before we get into the next arc, have a side story. For any native North English (specifically Barrovian) speakers I am sincerely sorry for butchering your dialect, but I had trouble finding a website that explained in detail the exact mechanics of your speech. I spelled your slang words as Wikipedia indicated they were heard as where applicable.

As for the next installment itself, expect a mixture of ambience and action (it's a bit unevenly distributed unfortunately as naturally battleship-meets-modern-day and Mikasa-meets-the-kanmusu/ship girls are bit on the fluffy side, but you will see the pre-dreadnought in action!) and acting an interlude/buildup to the next arc.

* * *

 _The Worker and the Urchin_

* * *

"'ey, whose 'e?"

"Dunno, Arthur's replacement innit?"

"'ey, you," the former patted the man on the back. "Wot's yer name?"

"'ello, anyone 'ome?"

"I heard you loud and clear," the man replied softly. "What do you want?"

"I'm Rudolph" the former pointed at himself, "and that'ere's Jack," he pointed to his partner. "We just 'eard there's a new guy from the south an' wanted to have a little chat if ye don't mind."

"I'm from London. And no thanks."

"C'mon," Jack folded his arms, "us two 'ere are from Cheapside, so we'd get along just fine if ye just opened up."

"Again, no."

"Suit yerself. We'll be with the foreman if ye want tea," Rudolph called out.

The man waited until the two workers walked away before burying his face in his hands.

"I just want to go home," he whimpered. Northern England was a very strange place to him. Nothing looked the same, no one talked the same, and most importantly nothing was the same. If it wasn't for the fact that the shipyard here had offered him a salary far more generous than the companies back south, he would have made a run for home in a heartbeat.

"Hey, you." It was another worker.

"The foreman and manager want to talk with you. You'd better see them at once; the foreman hates waiting."

* * *

An aging, thin man was waiting for him inside his office.

"Harold Marrett, I presume?" he said coldly. The man merely nodded.

"You have prior experience constructing large ships, correct?"

"I worked with Thames Iron Works for a time so I would say so yes."

The foreman's eyes glimmered. "Thames Iron Works, you said? What year?"

"October 1894 to July 1897."

"Then you'll be the perfect man for the job!" he happily slapped the desk. "Vickers has an outstanding order that needs completing, and after our recent accident we've had some…delays. I'll be counting on you to help keep things on schedule. Some of these workmen have never built anything larger than fishing boats."

There was a brief pause as the foreman looked at him expectantly.

"Well don't just stand there! Get a move on! Sidney will tell you what needs to be done at once! Oh, and your meals will be twenty minutes max, or the time will come out of your pay!"

* * *

His stomach rumbled, but he didn't hear it. He only had a few minutes to spare for his break, but he pushed aside his toast to pull out a locket instead.

"H-h-h-happy birthday to you, h-h-h-happy birthday to you,." The locket flipped open.

"H-h-happy birthday dear Mary, h-h-happy birthday t-t-t-to…" Harold rammed his face into his knees and began sobbing.

 _She would have been eight today._

 _"_ _Is there nothing you can do?" He looked at the doctor pleadingly._

 _"_ _A nasty case of typhoid," he shook his head. "I've never seen a patient with fever this high."_

 _He looked at the bed where his usually energetic daughter laid deliriously, so feeble that she could hardly move._

 _"_ _Mr. Marrett, Mrs. Marrett, I'm sorry for your loss," the doctor said quietly, taking off his hat before closing the door behind him._

A ringing bell reminded him that there was work to be done. Reluctantly, he trudged back to the workshop where he was tasked with manufacturing the steel plating required for the ship's keel.

Unlike previous projects, Harold found the current construction difficult. Apparently the Germans had trumped the Americans with armor design, and the ship thus required Krupp Armor instead of traditional Harvey steel. It required several more steps that he personally found difficult to remember and required frequent teamwork with other workers to quench and superheat the product.

"Wha' ya doin'?" He also jumped at the sight of a small girl in a pinafore, no more than five or six by his estimate, trying to peer over the railing and watch his work.

"This is no place for a young girl," he said sternly. "If you're looking for the manager or the foreman they're in the hut over there."

She turned to look at him, her grey eyes shining brightly. "But s'cool!" she cooed. "What'uh that do?"

"That cools the steel down low enough so that it can face-harden. That's how battleships get their hard shells," he explained before he could stop himself.

"Battleships?" she put a finger to her lips thoughtfully, looking from the sheets he was shaping to him.

"Ships with big guns," he said simply, though he began to feel uncomfortable under her eager gaze.

 _Why am I explaining this to her?_

 _"_ _Papa, what's that?" she pointed at the speeding engine, which spewed smoke and steam at them as it passed._

 _"_ _It's a train."_

 _"_ _Train?"_

 _"_ _It's like a carriage, but faster. Papa takes one to work every day."_

 _"_ _What do the '1' and '3' mean?"_

 _"_ _First and third class. Third is what I usually take."_

 _"_ _Can we go first class someday?"_

 _He ruffled her hair. "One day maybe. You can take it all the time if you get rich one day!"_

"Y'orite?" the little girl asked worriedly, her eyes big with fear.

"No," he sniffled.

"I-I can go 'way," she said quietly, beginning to slink away.

"No. Wait!" Immediately the girl ran back to him, though she looked more worried than eager.

"What's your name?" Much to his surprise she looked at him confusedly.

"Dunno m'name," she answered thoughtfully, wrinkling her brows in confusion. "Do y'have a name?"

"Harold Marrett. How do you not know what your name is?"

She shrugged.

"You're a silly urchin!" She eeked as he gave her a scolding head pat.

* * *

"A Scot, an Englishman, and a Frog walk into a bar…"

"I've heard this one before," the worker beside him groaned. "Another ale, please."

"That's yer sixth one uh'day!" the bartender wagged a finger warningly. "I doubt y'can pay off the tab at the rate yer drinking!" He turned to his next patron. "Can I get y'something Harold?"

"Two glasses of apple juice, please."

There was a burst of laughter at his request.

"The work must be dead easy for ye, eh?" the bartender chuckled, "it's been a month and ye've drowned yer sorrows in drink nowhere near as much as I expected."

"Well," he lowered his voice. "It's not for me. There's someone I want to give this to."

"Who?"

"Have you ever heard of people talking about urchins living in the shipyards?"

"Wot kinda urchins, sea urchins or urchin urchins?"

"Urchin urchins."

The bartender frowned. "Nuthin' I can recall. What does 'e look like?"

"She. Has hair as black as a Chinaman's and looks like one too. Weird thing is that she has grey eyes like an Englishman. Even speaks in your blasted Barrovian too."

"On second thought, ye need ter lay off the drink," the bartender chortled. "A Chinaman urchin 'n Barra…"

* * *

He smiled as she happily slurped up the cup's contents.

"Wha's this?" she asked eagerly.

"Apple juice. Not really a North English thing, though I thought you might like it."

"S'good!"

"I'm glad, Mary."

"Mary?"

His face froze. "I never told you, did I?" he sighed.

"Tell us wot?"

"I once had a daughter. She was very much like you…"

* * *

"I'm home!" he called out as he entered the rundown apartment .

"Margaret?"

His wife appeared, looking quite worried.

"It's Percy, isn't it?" Harold said quietly. She tearfully hugged him.

"You know the whole reason why we both moved up here was to make him as comfortable as we can. They said the air might be easier on him over here. Once I scrap together enough money maybe we can take him to a sanitarium."

"I-I-I'm such a bad mother," she sobbed. "First Mary and typhoid, and now Percy with the consumption."

"You're a wonderful woman, Marge. He'll be okay."

* * *

"Today's a special day!"

"I know!" she happily danced about the yard. "Gunna be excitin'!" The little girl had grown so much since they had first met. She was tall enough to look ten years old now, but he still thought she looked half-starved all the time. Fortunately, her enthusiasm hadn't changed.

"Let's not mess up anything now, gentlemen," the foreman barked. "Today's the day we launch this battleship!" There was a large crowd gathered to watch the ceremony. Rumors circulated that Sir William White himself was attending.

A foreigner, an oriental by Harold's reckoning, stood side-by-side with an elderly British officer.

"On this auspicious day, the eighth of November of the year 1900 of Our Lord, we celebrate the launch of His Imperial Japanese Majesty's Ship _Mikasa._ May this battleship, constructed in goodwill for the Empire of Japan, have a fortunate career."

"Hm, Mikasa," the girl said thoughtfully. "'sounds like a good'un."

"Let her loose!"

There was a rousing round of applause as the vessel slid broadside-ways into the sea, soaking workers and spectators alike in a massive tidal wave.

Harold looked on in amusement as she chased after the ebb of the tide, the urchin making an attempt keep her skirt dry as she gracefully walked on the water.

Wait a moment. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief and shook his head.

Only the Lord could walk on water. Maybe he should completely lay off the ale…

* * *

"Those the big guns?" She pointed at the massive cylindrical turrets being loaded into place.

"Twelve inch guns," he nodded. "That's what _Mikasa_ will use in order to beat her enemies into submission."

"S' a gentleman's cane!"

He held back a laugh. "Gentlemen don't use canes to beat up people, little girl. They're too busy for that."

"But wot if a gentleman runs into uh'other gentleman with another cane an' 'ey don't like each other?"

"…maybe you have a point."

"You talking to yourself there, Harry?" A worker smiled.

"Indeed he is, like he does every day!" Another chuckled.

"Why don't you help us man this crane and put the turrets in place instead of jabberin' off?"

A sharp tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to the urchin.

"That doesn't sin safe," she said worriedly.

"Relax, it's a crane. This is what it's meant to do."

"Oi Harry, come on!"

The girl sent him one last pleading look before he ran off in the direction of the turret.

"This thing weighs a couple hundred tons, so tell us if it's in the wrong place before we drop it alright?" Harold nodded.

"Here?"

"More to the left."

"How about now?"

"More."

"Now?"

"More."

Suddenly the crane gave a violate shudder, followed by a deep groan.

"The crane's controls are jammed!" The workers shouted. "It's going to fall over!"

Harold stood, rooted to the ground as he watched the crane's load slowly swing towards him.

"HARRY!"

"Mr. Marrett!"

 _CRASH!_

Harold gasped as he felt the air punched out of him before he fell to the ground a good distance away from the fallen turret. Wrapped around his waist was the little girl, likewise breathing heavily.

"I told y'wasn't safe," she chided him.

"Bloody hell Harry," the workers ran up to him. "We thought you were a goner!"

"Yeah, and you did this really cool thing where you flung yourself backwards! It was awesome!"

"WHAT HAVE YOU BASTARDS DONE TO MY TURRET," the foreman roared. "WHO WAS CONTROLLING THIS CRANE?"

"It was us, sir. It wasn't our fault; the crane's controls were wonky."

"Harry's okay though!"

"Damn him, think about the costs it will take to repair this bloody turret because of your damn incompetence," he spat. "You two will be suspended for at least a few days; be glad I'm not firing you!"

Harold turned to the little girl. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

"Listen ta us next time when I say'n have bad feelin's!" she puffed her cheeks.

* * *

"Harold!" His wife ran to the door and hugged him.

"I heard about the accident today. I was so worried I'd lose you too!"

"Margaret?"

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if I spend my week's pay on something? I need to buy someone a present."

"A present? For whom?"

"I know you won't believe me, but I think I have a guardian angel, Marge."

"An angel, dear? Wouldn't a prayer of thanks be enough?"

"Marge, there's this little girl at Vickers and even though she's an urchin she's a saint. The only reason you're not a widow right now is because she pushed me out of the way."

"An urchin?" She put her hands on her hips. "How do you know she didn't cause the accident so that you'd have to give her something?"

"She doesn't know I'm planning on giving her something. Besides, no one can see her. Everyone thinks I'm crazy because apparently it looks like I'm just talking with myself."

"I think you're hallucinating dear. Does she look like Mary, by chance?"

"Hardly."

"Alright," she pursed her lips. "You can buy her something, but I want to come along and see who this 'angel' is."

* * *

"Hello there."

She looked at him sadly. "The manager fired the two workers who were in charge of the crane. Apparently 'e thowt they'ere dead reckless."

"Bother the workmen. I have something to give you."

"F-f-f-for us?" He presented her a small flat box.

"For being such a kind young woman I thought I'd get you some other than that pinafore," Harold smiled. "Since I wanted to surprise you and you're growing like a reed it won't be a perfect fit, but with this tailor-made outfit you'll look, er, splendid."

The little girl's smile broadened as she studied the long purple dress. She didn't know much about fashion, but she thought it was fit for the queen herself.

"Thankee!" she tackled him and gave him an affectionate hug. Then she saw the woman towering behind him.

"Oh, hello!" she waved.

"Is this your wife?" He nodded.

"Thankee too, mam!"

* * *

"So, what did you think, Marge?" he asked as he shared a toast with his wife at the dinner table. "You saw for yourself that she's there."

"She's a lot like Mary," she said softly. "So energetic…and nice. She doesn't have any family?"

"No," he frowned. "That's the odd thing. She doesn't remember her parents, or if she even has any relatives for that matter."

"Do you think…she'll accept us as her parents?"

"Dunno. I'll ask her once we complete this ship. But the thing is, how come we're the only ones that can see her?"

* * *

"You called for me, sir?" He asked as he opened the door to the foreman's office.

"Yes, yes, come in Mr. Marrett. Sit down."

"Sir?" He swallowed.

"This is pretty serious, Mr. Marrett. The workers tell me that for the past two years you've been working here you've been seen chattering to no one in particular, 'a little girl' is what you claim by their reports. Are you alright in the head, or should I write recommendations for you to be sent to an asylum? If you weren't so essential to the completion of this project, I would have already motioned for the manager to do so."

"I can think clearly, sir."

"Crystal clear?"

"As clear as the ocean, sir."

"Tell me, Mr. Marrett, have you lost anyone you held dear to you? A childhood friend perhaps, a lover, or a child even?" Harold looked to his feet.

"Mr. Marrett, this is a simple question, have you or have you not lost someone that you consider yourself-"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it can't be a coincidence," he grunted.

"Sir?" he looked up in confusion.

"Many years ago, I worked for Armstrong-Whitworth. They were a flagship company then with their quality cannon, back in the day. One of my colleagues had a reputation for…not being right in the head, to put it politely. Apparently he had lost his brother to the Boers back in '81. He kept blathering about seeing little children wandering all over the shipyard whenever there was work to be done. No one believed him of course, because they couldn't see them. Now I wonder if he was actually right and we were wrong. My point is, Mr. Marrett," he looked sternly at the worker, "you are very fortunate to be blessed with some divine solace to see something, nay _someone_ , that we cannot. Use it wisely."

* * *

"Well, there goes the last gun," he commented as they lowered the aft turret into place.

"So she's dun?" she asked eagerly.

"Not yet. We still need to check and make sure she's assembled correctly, can't shame England by delivering a shoddy product. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Mhm?"

"…nevermind."

He wasn't sure what the legal process would be or what documentation would be required; all he knew was that the little girl needed a home and family. True, it wouldn't be the most luxurious home, but it would surely beat sleeping in the lonely yard. Now that the ship was almost ready for delivery, the moment to adopt her had come.

Except…

She wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Maybe she's sleepy today," he chuckled, and went to work.

But she didn't come back the next day, or the next.

* * *

 _Knock. Knock._

"Come in," he called.

"Do you mind?" A young woman inquired, taking off her bonnet and tidying her long black hair. Harold thought that she was rather handsome, though she was nothing compared to Marge.

"No, but what's a young lady like you doing down in a shipyard? The manager and foreman's hut is over there."

"Oh?" her grey eyes shined in amusement. "What if I'm not interested in talking with the manager or the foreman?"

"I'm married, madam."

"I'm aware, Mr. Marrett. You mentioned her when you gave me some apple juice, and you've introduced me to her as well." That got his attention.

"No way…" he breathed, staring at her up and down. "How did…?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Hang on, scratch that, I _do_ know," she put a gloved finger to his lips. "I woke up like this the day after you workers completed me. I did some scouting and scavenging to finish up this outfit."

" _You're_ Mikasa."

"Yes." She looked away sadly. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner; I didn't realize who I was until-"

"Until the day we launched you. No, it makes sense; it's a big moment for ships."

* * *

"How fast is she going?" An officer shouted.

"Eighteen knots and climbing!"

"This is so fast!" she laughed, raising her arms out wide as she took in the ocean spray. "I feel like a bird in the breeze!"

"This is nothing," Harold grinned. "The Great Western is in a race to design a locomotive to reach a hundred miles per hour."

Mikasa shhhed him, and then made a strange movement with her arms.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Racing the officers," she smiled. "You're about to see."

"Turn her to port!" came the shout.

"Already doing so, look!" Sure enough, the ship was in the process of rotating eighteen degrees to the left by the time the officers gave the command.

"But how…" the worker stared at her in bewilderment.

"A secret. Not a word," she winked. "Look at their faces," Mikasa continued, jerking her head at the bridge above them. From their vantage point it was quite clear that the acting commander was fuming at his subordinates while the others looked on questioningly.

"Did you anticipate my orders, Mr. Porter?"

"Course not! I think the bloody ship is just that good!"

"Rubbish."

"I'm telling you, sir, none of us were fooling around with the controls. Who else could it be, anyway?"

"Hm..."

"Well?"

"Well, in that case the trials are a success. She's exceeded her 18 knot requirement and has the maneuverability of a fencer. I just wonder how."

"Jolly good engineering, wot?" An observer chortled.

* * *

 _Will she be ready soon?_

 _We've tested her speed trials and she's also been armed. She meets every single requirement as ordered._

 _Excellent. We'll make preparations to take her home soon then._

"What's going on out there?" she frowned as she heard a group of shouts from outside.

"Sounds like Chinamen to me," Harold commented.

"They're Japanese, not Chinese," she corrected.

"You can understand them?" he asked in surprise.

"Perfectly."

 _Knock. Knock._

"Mr. Marrett, some officers from the Imperial Japanese Navy are here to see _Mikasa._ Could you show them around, please?"

He glanced at the equally-curious young lady. "Certainly."

* * *

"You have good shipyards," one of the officers commented as they made their way towards the battleship. "Yokosuka is nothing like this."

"That is because you are Japan and we are England," Harold said simply. "The two are incomparable."

"Now they are not," an officer smiled, "but one day we should become equal to England's might. We will do our best to achieve it! With our battleships, Japan will become a world power!"

"And how do you plan to do that with only a handful of such ships?" he snarked.

"The National Spirit," the officer returned. "Our country has a rich tradition, and we will do well to honor it."

Mikasa smiled as the two men went back and forth. She knew little about "Japan" and their history, but they sounded like a compassionate people to whom it was worth giving her undying loyalty to.

* * *

"So, you're going away, huh?" he commented as the two shared one last meal together. The Japanese officers returned a few days later with a crew to man the battleship, and had started her boilers quite nicely.

"It's a new country, and it seems like I'm needed. I can't possibly be happier."

"I confess this might be my patriotism speaking, but please for both Marge's sake and mine don't go native."

"They're my countrymen. They were the ones who requested that I be brought into existence in this world. I will help and cooperate with them completely. I won't forget England though," she added, shyly holding up a copy of _Ivanhoe_ and a bunch of other items she had taken as souvenirs.

"You better not," he warned. "Though this should help." He gave her a cup containing a thick, dark brown liquid.

"Take a sip." Her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly downed the rest of the cup.

"Builder's tea," he smiled. The best way to start your morning. Green tea and coffee don't stand a chance against it. Black tea is also good though."

"Can I have the recipe?" she asked eagerly.

"Of course, though really it's the tea leaves you'll be needing."

There was the sound of a low horn in the distance.

"Looks like the Japanese are preparing to cast off; I'd better help them out. Thank you again Mr. Marrett for everything."

"Remember this, Mikasa: you will always have a home at Barrow-in-Furness whenever you are in England."


	10. Dreams and Nightmares: The Happy Return

_**Dreams and Nightmares**_

* * *

 _Pain._

 _It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She was used to being in physical agony, the result of pushing herself to the limit in the name of the country._

 _This was different. She felt hollow and empty, as if there was no meaning to her existence._

 _And cold._

 _She had somehow lost her prized jacket, leaving her to wander aimlessly about in her undershirt, a state that she was not particularly proud of._

 _There was something very wrong with her surroundings. The fields around her greener than any she had ever seen, but they were eerily level, as if someone had taken care to meticulously even out their natural imperfections._

 _"_ _Hello?" Mikasa called out nervously._

 _"_ _Mimi, you came!" came a voice behind her as she found her legs being held captive in a childish embrace. The pre-dreadnought immediately recognized the insensate form happily snuggling against her._

 _"_ _Shikishima?" she breathed. "You're alive! I thought I'd never see you-" Mikasa felt her pulse stop as she gently rolled her friend onto her back. Where the playful battleship's eyes should have been were two black cavities that gazed intently into her own._

 _"'_ _Shiki, what happened?"_

 _"_ _Japan happened, that's what," spat a mangled, limbless creature that was watching the two from a respectful distance away._

 _Her eyes widened in terror. "F-F-Fuji? Is that you?"_

 _The creature didn't answer. "They took out her eyes and arms because they said they had to. Then they crippled her until she couldn't do anything more than crawl about because they said it was too expensive maintaining her. After leaving her like that for twenty-five years, they finally killed her."_

 _"_ _She's right," added another disfigured being, who had somehow arrived unnoticed. "Japan used us, they lied to us. They told us that we were needed, that we were their hope, but once we had saved them they immediately discarded us like old toys."_

 _"_ _That can't be right," she retorted, "there was a treaty-the Washington Naval Treaty! Japan was forced to sign it so that it could-"_

 _"_ _So that it could be done with us. The Government knew who we were, what we had fought, and what we had done. They knew we loved them, cared for them, and yet they_ _ **killed**_ _us. They almost killed you too. Mikasa, please have common sense and realize, it is not worth protecting them any longer."_

 _"'_ _Shiki, they're lying aren't they?"_

 ** _"_** ** _Hold her still, damn it," the creature ordered._**

 _"'_ _Shiki, answer me!" Mikasa pleaded._

 _"_ _ **Damn it, I can't work if you won't hold her still!"**_

 _Suddenly, Shikishima leapt up and violently grabbed Mikasa's arm, threatening to tug it out of her sockets._

 _"_ _Shiki, what's gotten into you? Let me go!" she shrieked._

 ** _"_** ** _It's almost in. Hold her fucking still!"_**

"NO!" Mikasa cried out, violently thrashing at the cables attached to her arm.

"Holy shit, pull 'em out!" a masked man shouted.

"I told you giving her IV was asking for trouble!" a woman snapped. "She's having adverse reaction to the solution!"

"You two, hold her still!" The two armed men keeping watch over the room ran over and immediately began restraining her.

"How fucking long is this catheter?" the woman grumbled as she frantically tried pulling the instrument out.

"Not that it matters," one of the soldiers remarked, jerking his head at the battleship's senseless form.

"Shit," the masked man swore again as he touched Mikasa's throat. "Vitals are within acceptable limits, but fucking hell, that gave me a fright."

"I'd say leave her be, doctor. Goto did say that you were supposed to wait until Akashi stopped by before administering anything. We have no idea what Mikasa is. Who knows; maybe even a simple mixture of salt and water could prove fatal to her."

The man looked ready to argue but watched as his patient slump against the walls of the pool and sighed.

"I guess there are times when patience is the best medicine, even if it means the higher-ups leave a patient hanging for eighteen hours," he conceded.

"The admiral has a lot on his hands," the soldiers patted him comfortingly. "The abyssals apparently did quite a number on the base from what we've been told, and the government keeps badgering him how long it will take for the kanmusu fleet to be prepared for further orders."

"Well, hopefully he will get to her sooner rather than later," the doctor replied as he and the nurse began carting away the unnecessary medical equipment. "It pains me how negligent we have been to a woman who has done so much for us. I assume you two will continue to keep watch over her?"

He stamped his foot in frustration as the two soldiers paid no heed to his words, choosing to ogle the patient instead.

"You should know better than that, soldiers," he remarked reprovingly. "Patients are something to aid, not fantasize over."

"It's not her, it's her hands. Look!" the nurse pointed as Mikasa attempted to lift herself out of her watery bed, her eyes shut and knuckles white. He couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at her ominous movement.

"W-what is she doing?" The doctor nervously asked the two soldiers.

"Three hundred meters. Easy," Mikasa called out, a smile growing on her face. There was a menacing groan from outside of the hospital.

"Isn't that the distance from here to the park?" the nurse whispered.

Suddenly both soldiers frantically dragged the two medical officers out of the room, making sure that the door was closed before speaking.

"Tell everyone else in the hospital, that under absolutely no circumstances should anyone walk into her room, unless they are a kanmusu," they panted. "It seems that we've frightened her so her reflexes are taking over."

"But what did she mean by three hundred meters?" the doctor demanded.

"Doc, I can't blame you for not knowing, but me and Nitta were there when she came back. She was preparing to _fire_ at us."

He paled. "But I all meant to do was-"

"Meant to or not, you woke her up in a place she had never been in before surrounded by complete strangers. This might be the first time she's been somewhere else besides Mikasa Park for almost a hundred years. Given how much she resisted to a simple IV line, I'd bet my entire week's pay that she thought we were trying to _kill_ her."

"So now what?" the nurse groaned.

"Not much we can do," Nitta grimaced. He turned to his partner. "Do you want to be the one to tell Goto or should I?"

* * *

 _RapRapRap_

"Why did Goto call us in here?" Kaga frowned as she tapped the table impatiently. "We've been up for almost an entire day fighting abyssals and scouting out the Pacific Ocean, we're not really in any condition for a high-priority strategy meeting."

"Agreed, Yūbari and Akashi look like they could use some help," Nagato added as she glanced through the window and watched the two scientists scavenge through the remains of the workshop.

"If it's any comfort, Nagato and Mutsu, the Americans are helping the search efforts now," Kirishima remarked, her eyes following Missouri's movements as the Iowa carried a steel beam away from the wreckage.

"Don't worry, dess!" Kongō waved her teacup nonchalantly. "Goto will be here soon, and then afterwards we'll help rescue Tōgō-san! There will be no problems, dess!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE 'ALMOST FIRED AT THE NAVAL HOSPITAL'?" roared an angry voice from Goto's private office.

"…maybe," the fast battleship added sheepishly.

 _Click._

"Heh, I guess we're not late?" Tenryū whispered nervously as she tiptoed into the office. Tatsuta noiselessly followed her sister, giving everyone a silent smile.

"Thirty minutes late, but no one's counting," Ōyodo commented. "Goto's been on the phone for the last hour, so you haven't missed anything."

"THERE IS A REASON WHY I TOLD DOCTOR HIDEKI TO WAIT. I DIDN'T WANT HER TO GO FULL ABYSSAL ON US, AND IT LOOKS LIKE WE WERE _SECONDS_ AWAY FROM THAT HAPPENING!"

"Abyssal?" Akagi perked up. "Who's in the hospital?"

"Goto will explain," Ōyodo insisted.

"From what I've heard, this has something to do with the incident in Mikasa Park, doesn't it?" Kirishima inquired.

"Like I said-"

The door to Goto's private office burst open. "Sorry for the delay. _Humans who don't work with kanmusu,_ " the admiral grumbled.

"What's going on, Goto?" Tenryū asked. "Kirishima says that something happened in the park while we were out."

"Something?" Goto chuckled. "More like lots of somethings. I'll try and make this quick since I know we all have more pressing concerns at the moment," nodding at Nagato and Mutsu.

"Ōyodo, every kanmusu that was alive in some form before the Washington Naval Treaty took effect and is currently stationed at Yokosuka is in this room, correct?" Everyone murmured in affirmation.

"Then I have some good news to bear. I am pleased to inform you that an old friend will soon be accompanying us on base. She appeared in the final moments of the abyssal attack, and seemed to have somehow discouraged the enemy from proceeding with their plans. It's-"

The admiral could speak no further before his voice was drowned out by the wild speculation circulating throughout the room.

"Kawachi, maybe?" Nagato thought aloud, stroking her chin thoughtfully.

"Pretty impressive if she drove off the attacks though," Ise countered. "She wasn't exactly familiar with aerial combat when she sank."

"Isn't that true of _all_ of our comrades from before the Treaty? Hōshō was just fresh out of the yards, then. They'd be utterly awestruck at the sight of speeding monoplanes."

"You're right…hmmm…"

"Kii, perhaps? That would make for awkward conversation though, considering we've never met her."

"What makes you think it's a battleship?" Tenryū scowled, looking from one towering dreadnought to another. "It could be another one of Kamikaze's sisters, or maybe even one of mine."

"But none of your sisters except Tatsuta were actually laid down. Besides, there's no way a cruiser or destroyer could cause an entire fleet to turn tail and run…"

"Unless she carries a sword like me!"

Meanwhile, Kaga and Akagi shared hopeful looks.

"Do you think-?"

"I wouldn't bear you any ill will if she does, Akagi."

"I was about to tell you the same, Kaga," the battlecruiser-turned-carrier smiled in encouragement.

"It would be nice to see either of them again…"

"Cheer up sis," Hiei patted Kongō comfortingly as the latter stared out the window wistfully. "There's still a chance…"

"It seems most probable and characteristic of her, even though she probably hated herself for doing so," her spectacled sister nodded in agreement. "It _was_ a flair of hers to be at her best when she least wanted to."

"But sis, she was old, old enough that she considered us as both her children and her friends. What are the chances…"

"It's Tōgō's flagship, Mikasa." A voice cut in, having the courage at last to shout over the crowd.

In a clock tick the room fell silent.

"Towards the end of the battle she repelled a probing attack on the park and then collapsed. She's currently in the Naval Hospital on base. I didn't mean to get you all riled up like that," Admiral Goto added, tugging nervously at his collar.

Ōyodo took in a deep breath in a vain attempt to provide more air for her six boilers, sensing that the impending conversation would take an ugly turn.

The commander had made a grave mistake in not stating the spirit's identity sooner. As a cruiser constructed well after the dreaded London and Washington Naval treaties, she could only imagine the pain of those who had to watch their friends and siblings die at the very hands of those who brought them into being. Now Admiral Goto had unintentionally toyed with their feelings. She could nearly _touch_ the tension hanging low in the air. At any second—

 _Crash._

"Shit," Kongō pouted as a porcelain teacup tumbled to the floor from her numb hands.

"Mikasa?" Kirishima whispered incredulously. "Our old friend? _The_ pre-dreadnought that actually fought a 'Decisive Battle' and won?"

"The one and same," Goto slowly nodded.

"Guh, how? How come I didn't see…I suspected it but wasn't prepared for this..." the black-haired battleship nervously wiped off the sweat forming at her brow. "Oh dear, what will she say…"

"Don't worry, there's still time to set up a party for her! Everything will be okay!"

Hiei turned her attention to her eldest sister, who was still unmovingly staring at her shattered teacup.

"Hey sis, smile! Mom's back!"

"I'm sorry to have raised any hopes about anyone else returning," Goto continued softly as he turned his gaze towards the other assembled ship girls, watching Akagi glumly recline back onto the floor.

"That is forgivable," Kaga answered curtly, studying her bow carefully. "It would have been strange for Mikasa to _not_ have returned given the events in Mikasa Park. Besides, her loyalty to Japan is admirable. It would be an honor to meet such a noble warrior."

"And she's so fortunate!" Yamashiro purred.

"With all due respect, admiral," Nagato began, "her arrival is leaving me with more questions than answers. While this is a relief given our recent losses, why did you summon us now to celebrate that fact?"

"Originally, I just wanted to give you a heads up before I informed the other girls at dinnertime, but then there was a mistake at the hospital," Goto sighed. "Mikasa has apparently been around for some time now masquerading as a JMSDF officer, but her knowledge of modern world is incredibly limited. It seems like the doctors tried administering medication to keep her stable, but that caused her to panic and now no one can enter her room unless they want to demolish the hospital. Since you all are most familiar with her, I was wondering if you all would be willing to volunteer to keep watch over her until she returns to her senses and Akashi can assess her."

Kaga stood up. "Done," she stated. Akagi also nodded.

"Gladly," Kongō chimed in with unusual calmness, having overcome her surprise at last. "Once we find Tōgō-san, I'll join you two as well."

"Sis' and I will try," Tenryū added uncertainly, "but aren't the two of us supposed to escort the emergency supply ships from Hokkaido later tonight?"

"Ise and I can fill for you then," Hyūga smiled. "It will be interesting to take such a peaceful sortie again…"

"Logistically-speaking that is impermissible. We have limited resources as-is, and your fuel consumption vastly outstrips both Tenryū and Tatsuta's by a considerable margin," Goto reminded her, "However, if Admiral Yorimitsu believes that the extra firepower is necessary I think I can agree to that."

"Fusō and I have been forgotten again," Yamashiro rued, subconsciously massaging her still-healing wounds.

"We'll think of something," Mutsu replied quickly. "We can always join the others when they visit worst case scenario…"

"If that is all, then I request to be relieved," Nagato bowed. "There is still much to be done to get the fleet back in battle-condition, especially with the resource shortage at hand." At the admiral's nod of approval she walked out of the room, the other kanmusu following her shortly thereafter.

Only the fleet secretary stayed behind, her head bowed in meditation.

"Admiral," Ōyodo mused thoughtfully, "there's still one thing bothering me about Mikasa's situation."

"Go on."

"She's a pre-dreadnought, isn't she? Given that the war is being fought with tactics from both world wars, it's going to be difficult deploying her effectively."

"I've thought of that. If she's a kanmusu, we'll need to modernize her gear."

"But how? At the moment we're struggling to just keep the fleet supplied."

"We find Lieutenant Tōgō and ask her for her opinion. Together with Yūbari and Akashi, the three of them made a legendary innovation team. Tōgō developed the plans, Akashi optimized the designs, and then Yūbari implemented them. Considering that this is _Mikasa_ that we are talking about, I think our problem would be restraining her imagination, not her resources. This is assuming that she is alive, however…"

"We can only hope…"

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this isn't her?" The two Fletchers asked as they presented the experimental cruiser a shriveled, blackened mass.

"Where did you find it?" she demanded.

"Underneath some floorboards over there," they answered, pointing at the leftmost end of the former warehouse.

Yūbari glanced at the object and shook her head. "I promise you it's not. Trust me, I know what she looks like."

"Then what is it then? It looks extremely human," O'Bannon noted suspiciously.

"You're better off not knowing," she replied, dismissing further conversation with a wave of her hand.

O'Bannon and Taylor took one look at the mass and then each other before unceremoniously flinging it into the ocean.

"Gangway!" Akashi shouted as she rushed by them, towing a small caravan of trolleys behind her. Even though they had been covered over with a white tarp, the sheets could not prevent the carts from dissipating a horrid stench.

"What did you shitty scientists put in there?" Akebono grumbled, shielding her face in a futile attempt to block out the smell.

"Durians. Sanshiki Rounds. Enough said," Yūbari remarked, her mind engrossed in studying the remnants of what had once been a research table. "Atlanta, Oakland, any luck?"

"Negative. We found some old Oerlikons from our last refit here though. I thought you said you were going to scrap them!"

"Guess who wanted to turn them into a medieval cannon?"

"That was _not_ me!" Akashi protested furiously. "You know who the person-who-had-an-obssession-about-Korean-artillery-after-reading-about-it-in-a-book is!"

"Yes, and she's not here," the experimental cruiser said quietly.

"I'm sure we'll find her," Akashi patted in encouragement.

* * *

"Come on boys, heave!"

"Urgh…" the Dixie-Cup-clad sailors groaned as the lot of them attempted in vain to lift up a large rock.

"On my signal! " Their superior shouted, raising his arm high in the air.

"One…"

"Two…"

Before he could complete the countdown, a giant hand reached down towards them.

"You know you guys don't have to chip-in," Missouri giggled as she removed the problematic pebble with ease. "You don't have the strength that you all used to have back then."

"I know," her fairy admiral sighed, shoving his hands into his jacket. "We just thought, you know…we all know the legend of Gensui Tōgō. Imagine if…"

Her eyes twinkled as she came to the fairy's exact conclusion.

"We shouldn't get too ahead of ourselves though," the Japanophile warned. "The abyssals bombed the facility pretty hard, and…"

"What is that?" a sailor pointed nervously at nearby debris pile where an eye was staring at them intently.

* * *

"HEY! I found something!"

Everyone rushed over to the mound where Missouri stood, her hands holding a very annoyed and very stubborn fairy.

"Desu Desu!" she waved angrily.

"I can't speak Desunese so I'll leave her to you two," the battleship replied, letting the small being plop into Yūbari's awaiting palm.

"Nyan?" Yūbari asked hopefully.

"Desu Desu!"

"Burrow? What do you mean?"

"Desu Desu!" The fairy stamped her foot and pointed down. The cruiser's eyes widened in understanding.

"Akashi, get your cranes! There's something under here!"

"We'll help," Nagato and Mutsu chorused. "Missouri, can you lend a hand?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

"That's some beam," Nicholas whispered to the other destroyers as they watched the three battleships lift a massive slab from the rubble, sending a cloud of dust high into the air.

"It has to be part of the wall," O'Bannon corrected, "beams can't be that thick. But how come it didn't disintegrate like the other parts did?"

"Beats me," Taylor replied.

* * *

Yūbari began visibly trembling.

"Akashi…the building didn't collapse all the way over here. There's a hole small enough to fit a person where that slab was."

"No one move!" Nagato barked. "If that's the case, then we could cause it to cave in if we do anything else!"

"I-I-I guess I'll take a look then," Yūbari stammered. Everyone gave her a thumbs up.

 _Now was the moment of truth…_

She carefully crawled into the crevice, taking care to avoid getting stuck on the various pieces of metal and wood that protruded dangerously along the way. The cruiser didn't get very far before she stumbled and fell over something. It was an officer's jacket, specifically a lieutenant's.

"Positive thoughts," she mumbled, "positive thoughts…"

Yūbari groped about in the darkness and found an unmoving hand. A little further away she discovered a pale, bloodied body sprawled out face-down on the floor. She licked her lips and turned on the searchlight at her wrists.

"Uwaaa, it's too early," the body groaned, proceeding to bury itself deeper inside the officer's jacket. "Five more minutes…"

"Tōgō-san, is that you?"

"Eh? Is that Yūbari I'm-"

"TŌGŌ!" she shrieked, her voice breaking into relieved sobs as she hugged the officer. "We thought we lost you."

"Eh, Yūbari, you should know better than that," the Lieutenant replied, giving a giant shrug. "I'm a giant hamster, I burrow into anything. No, scratch that, I'm a _majestic_ cockroach!" At that statement she put her arms over her head as if they were giant antennae.

"I can fit under doors,  
I can squeeze myself so thin,  
There's no place high and low that I can't go  
That you will ever know,  
Oh the perks of being a cockroach…!"

" _This_ is the fabled lieutenant?" Missouri deadpanned as Tōgō's singing echoed outside.

Akashi's eyes twitched. "And to think that we were worried sick that she was _dead_ ," she chortled.

"I don't know what I find stranger, the fact that the great-great-grandniece of a commander our old admiral adored is singing about insects or that a Japanese officer is singing a song to the tune of 'Der Hohenfriedberger,'" O'Bannon mused.

"How do you know it's German?" Nicholas eyed her sister suspiciously.

"Prinz Eugen," the destroyer said simply.

"I think that's the least of worries," Yūbari remarked as she carried her bleeding, bruised, and writhing friend out of the hole. "With her injuries I think she's going into shock."

"Yūbari, how could you say such a thing?" Tōgō smiled weakly. "I mean I'm slightly injured but I'm feeling perfectly fine!"

"Then explain how come your arm is in _that_ position," she demanded, pointing at the lieutenant's left arm that was bent far beyond what could possibly be considered normal.

"I don't know," she shrugged. Everyone winced as they saw something protrude from her bloodied forearm, threatening to pierce the skin.

"Oh look, I've been impaled!" Tōgō giggled, giving the affected limb a hearty shake. Yūbari didn't laugh with her.

"Nagato, Mutsu, take Lieutenant Tōgō to the hospital, _now._ We can ask questions about how she made it later; she needs to be treated before she loses her arm and her sanity."

"You don't need to tell us twice."

"What are you doing?" the officer curiously glanced at the two dreadnoughts as they carefully lifted her up and began escorting her away.

"Hey hey hey, I'm not done…with my explanation yet. Yūbari, you…have to listen to me, there's something important down there that I need you to pick up. Yūbari…do you hear me? Yūbarrrrrriiiiiiiii!"

* * *

 **A/N:** I tried hinting that Tōgō was not definitively dead repeatedly, and there will be a non-"asspull" explanation given in a later fragment. (I tried researching about explosion pressure impacts on the human body and the like for the in-canon response). My official stance on character killings is that I would like to at least give them some development before they die.

This also wasn't intended as a jab to medical workers either (I'm studying the field myself); basically the staff were trying to treat her, but as she was unfamiliar with such practices (she thought they were trying to drown/sink her) she overreacted (also note that informed consent was also found to be a slightly more ambiguous concept in Japan than say the United States.)

Thanks for reading my story so far, I greatly appreciate it!


	11. Dreams and Nightmares: Unexpected Guests

_She watched with interest as the little girl sat on the floor with her mouth open, her gaze fixated on the stationary in her hands._

 _"_ _What are you making?" Mikasa asked curiously, watching her fingers carefully fold and unfold the piece of paper._

 _"_ _Mm, I don't know yet," the girl pondered. "Maybe a dragon? Mm, I don't think I'm good enough for that yet."_

 _Yashima distracted herself from her reading of_ Great Expectations _to give the child a look of disapproval._

 _"_ _Akatsuki, what have we told you about taking supplies from your captain's office? You know he keeps blaming Lieutenant Okubo, and the last thing we need is an officers' feud right before we sortie out to Port Arthur."_

 _"_ _Mm, but commander, I leave them out for the captain. He has to know it's not Lieutenant Okubo."_

 _"_ _Does the captain know you exist?"_

 _Akatsuki put a thoughtful finger to her chin. "No," she hummed._

 _"_ _Then who is he likely to blame?"_

 _"_ _It's alright Yashima, let it slide this once," Mikasa insisted. "I mean, eventually Captain Hajime is going to find to your secret collection at some point."_

 _"_ _He'll, he'll dismiss it as flagship embellishment," she blushed. "These are English treasures we're talking about," she said firmly, giving the stack of novels beside her a healthy pat. After a few moments of guiltily staring at her prized possessions, the battleship returned to her readings, pretending to not hear her friend's reprimand._

 _Mikasa felt a gentle tap on her shoulder._

 _"_ _Here, you should have this," Akatsuki smiled._

 _"_ _What is it?"_

 _"_ _Guess!"_

Mikasa opened her eyes and smiled to herself, basking in the warm sunset illuminating the pool. There was something about the room that made her feel safe, even though it had been the place where some humans had tried to smother her earlier that morning.

But what made it so peaceful? The pool was warm, but not soothing, and even worse soiled her spotless uniform. It certainly wasn't the sunlight either; she had seen quite a few moving sunsets in her lifetime, and this was not one of them.

"Hmph," grunted a small voice beside her. Propped against one of the many columns in the room was a small girl, fighting with the white paper in her hands to get it to obey her commands.

"That's a nice origami rabbit, Akatsuki," Mikasa smiled, letting her head rest against the side of the pool. It was nice to know that in this strange world that there were still familiar faces!

The girl reddened in embarrassment. "Hrmph, but it's not like Fubuki's! She makes the most eleph- I mean elegant rabbits!"

"Fubuki? Why worry about the Harusame destroyers when you and your sister Kasumi make the best ones?" she frowned. She hadn't remembered Akatsuki being so self-conscious about her artistic capabilities.

As the sunlight shifted to give Mikasa a better view of her visitor she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

The sailor fuku she wore was nearly identical to the one she remembered the Kasumi sisters wearing, but the cap was flatter and had a wider brim. The girl also wore a skirt that was so short Mikasa would have given her an earful had her legs not been modestly covered with a pair of stockings. Most glaring of all, however, was the girl's disheveled purple hair, a color so unusual there was no doubt in her mind that this was _not_ the cheerful, innocent destroyer she had gotten to know so well at Port Arthur.

"My apologies," Mikasa sighed, "I mistook you for an old acquaintance. Her name was Akatsuki. Origami was a hobby of hers." That got the girl's attention.

"Ah," she replied, giving the battleship a polite curtsy, "forgive me for misleading you then. My name is also Akatsuki."

"What a coincidence," Mikasa grinned. "Is Fubuki a sister of yours, then?"

The girl's head bobbed up and down. "Lead ship of the entire class! All twenty-four of us!"

"You don't say!" How Japan must have changed to be able to approve so many ships for one class!

"Do you have more sheets of paper?" the battleship asked hopefully. She beckoned for Akatsuki to watch her as the destroyer handed her the white stationary.

"I'm a bit rusty on the exact steps, but here is how to make a dragon…"

* * *

She found it difficult to restrain her excitement as she watched Mikasa effortlessly create a tortoise, then a crane. The pre-dreadnought was so courteous and talented! Like a true lady, the battleship could create artistic masterpieces even when she was in the middle of an engaging conversation!

Akatsuki sighed in adoration as Mikasa set her sights on creating a whale, her expression deep in concentration. This was the face of the aristocracy, a group that could never be emotionally shaken, only stirred. If only mama had told her that she would be tasked with watching a noblewoman this evening…then again, she should have expected no less from one of the greatest battleships of all time.

Maybe she still had a chance at becoming her protégé.

"So, what do you think?" Mikasa asked, presenting the collection of origami figures she had made.

 _Stay calm, Akatsuki, stay calm. You don't want her to see how immature-_

"It's a zoo!" she giggled, happily diving for the animals.

"Look at the sharks swimming in the ocean! Watch out dolphins, there are scary creatures nearby! Now the giraffes are running off to graze on some grass!" the destroyer narrated she gently placed the creatures from one tile to another.

Mikasa couldn't help but laugh as she watched Akatsuki entertain herself.

"I-i-it's not funny," the little girl flushed, fidgeting nervously. "Ladies should engage in various activities as part of their lifestyle. It makes them, er, costumepolitan."

"Cosmopolitan," she corrected, giving Akatsuki an affectionate head pat. "It's okay to have fun too, you know."

Her eyes lit up. "Are you saying that even _you_ were silly once, Mikasa-san?" The pre-dreadnought's grin faded into a sad smile.

"Sorry," the destroyer said quietly, shuffling the floor uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Akatsuki. I'm just remembering the grand old days." She wiped away a tear forming at the corner of her eyes. "Everything changes, I just wish the others were still around. Though that can't be helped," she stated to herself sharply before turning back to the purple-haired girl.

"I appreciate you keeping me company, but do you mind if I ask why you were here?"

"Mama, I mean mother, and Hyūga wanted to visit, but they're on an important escort duty so she asked me and my sisters to take turns keeping watch over you."

"And who is your mother?"

"Tenryū. She gets really scary when she's mad, but she's really nice!"

 _Why do those names sound so familiar? Wait…wasn't there a light cruiser with that name commissioned shortly before I was retired?_

"Akatsuki, I know this isn't a polite question to ask a lady, but how old are you?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I was launched in 1932 if that helps."

 _"_ _A ship is lucky to see thirty years," the official snapped, giving the sailors beside her an irritated glare. "Considering how much we've invested in keeping Mikasa afloat, be happy that we didn't decide to scrap her sooner."_

 _That was in 1921, and the light cruiser was launched a few years before that. No, the two couldn't be the same person; the Tenryū I knew was probably lying in pieces in a scrapyard at the time that Akatsuki was constructed._

The destroyer's violent yawn returned the battleship's thoughts to her little companion.

"I'm sleepy," Akatsuki rubbed her eyes. "A lady should get some proper beauty rest. No!" she straightened up. "A proper lady doesn't run away from her duty! A lady's all-nighter is perfect, no?"

"It _is_ dark outside,"Mikasa commented, "and the child that sleeps well grows up well. So they say, at least."

"In that case," she rested her head against the pre-dreadnought's shoulder, "do you mind?"

* * *

"Aw man, fish curry _again_?"

"Don't complain, be happy you have food," Atlanta cuffed the destroyer sharply, causing the mess table they were sitting at to tremble slightly. "The JMSDF's courteous enough to provide us with a meal, considering how the kanmusu are on human rations until the navy can scrap together enough resources for them to use the special ship girl bunker fuel again."

"We know," Taylor sighed as she took a bite, "we were just hoping Mamiya, Hōshō, and Irako would be here. All the other Fletchers keep raving about their meals whenever they come back from an expedition to Japan."

"Like their ice cream sundaes," O'Bannon's mouth watered.

"They're usually not at Yokosuka, though," Hibiki pointed out. "Hōshō has a growing restaurant chain that she tends to at Sasebo and Rabaul when she can, and Mamiya and Irako are pretty much her coworkers who keep the place running."

"I should have known that Johnston wasn't saying everything," Taylor groaned. "Missouri, can we take a trip to Sasebo some time?" The Iowa battleship stared at her food disinterestedly, a dazed expression on her face.

"Earth to Missouri, this is Taylor, do you read me?" she waved her hand in front of her superior's eyes to no effect.

"What's gotten into _her_ ," Atlanta whispered to Oakland as the two cruisers took turns staring at the fast battleship.

"It's probably because of Admiral Nimitz. Both of them must be having a field day, today."

"What does Nimitz have anything to do with this?"

"You weren't there, were you, Atlanta?" O'Bannon asked quietly.

"For V-Day? Of course not, I was sunk at Guadalcanal. I know what happened though, if that makes any difference."

Oakland shook her head. "Admiral Nimitz was a fan of Tōgō Heihachiro. He actually sent guards to protect _Mikasa_ during the surrender ceremony and afterwards, and from what I've heard even helped fund her restoration a couple of decades ago."

"And today we rescued his great-great-grandniece," O'Bannon finished.

"I understand now," Atlanta nodded. "It'd be like if Arizona saved the grandchild of FDR, she'd be beside herself. I can't imagine Mo's reaction if Mikasa were to suddenly appear…"

Inazuma, Ikazuchi, and Hibiki looked at each other, then at their American tablemates.

"You didn't hear, nanodesu?"

"Hear what?"

"Oh, this is going to be _soooooo_ good," O'Bannon rubbed her hands together in glee, realizing where the conversation was going.

"Mikasa came back last night. She's in the Naval Hospital now. Akatsuki's keeping watch over her until Tenryū comes back; that's why she isn't here eating with us."

Oakland and Atlanta stared at the three destroyers in shock, and then glanced nervously to their right.

Missouri cocked her head slightly, her fairies slowly relaying the message to the bridge. Nicholas snickered and began the countdown.

"5..."

"4…"

"3…"

"2…"

" _WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"_ Missouri screeched, grabbing an unfortunate Inazuma by the scruff of her sailor's fuku.

"Uh, Mikasa's back, er, nanodesu?"

 _Thunk._

"You know you can visit her you know," Oakland teased.

"I could- no I won't!" Missouri frantically shook her head. "She doesn't know who I am, and the same for me. It'd be pretty awkward. What am I supposed to tell her anyway, 'hey one of my commanders was a big fan of your admiral and I've also kinda sorta read all about your exploits?'"

"You know you have this thing that opens and closes called a mouth that does this super cool thing called talking?" Atlanta snarked.

"It's-it's not like that!" she waved her hands. "What if she hates us? I mean she's not just a Japanese battleship, but a _British_ built Japanese battleship. Britain and Japan? America's mortal enemies? Count me out."

"You do have a point," O'Bannon replied thoughtfully, "but shouldn't the fact that she was retired in the 1920's means she shouldn't have any of the World War II emotions all of us had?"

"Does the term 'Washington Naval Treaty' mean anything to you? We pretty much tried killing her until Japan bargained with us. Besides, Nimitz," the fairy waved hello at his mention, "says that's the era where the 'National Spirit' was still pretty big."

"So?"

"I'd rather not get attacked by a batshit crazy samurai ship-girl. If Atlanta is any indication," at this the light cruiser looked uncomfortable, "our memories are based off our last significant naval action, or inaction if you were lucky enough to not have to fight. That means Mikasa's probably going to be in 1905 mode."

"And?"

"Do you remember what happened to Taffy 3 during Samar when they ran into Kongō?"

The three destroyers whimpered and hugged each other.

"Amplify that by eleven battleships, combine it with the mentality that you _can't_ lose, and you get her record at Tsushima Strait. Oh, might I add that she probably _taught_ Kongō, so that means she's probably even _crazier_ when she's pissed off?"

"I _did_ hear that she shot down a bunch of abyssal bombers in spite of not having an AA complement," Oakland mused.

"See what I mean?" Missouri furiously pointed at the Atlanta sub-class cruiser as if she had won a prize, "Hell no, I don't want to poke a sleeping bear."

"Missouri-san, I think you're over-worrying," Ikazuchi sweatdropped. "Mikasa-san was fast asleep when we were there, and she was as peaceful as Akatsuki when she's napping. "

"I'm not like Iowa or 'Jersey, when I see trouble I make sure I have at least two ways out before I commit."

"Nicholas, Taylor, and I could visit her later tonight and send Mikasa your compliments," O'Bannon smiled weakly.

"O'Bannon, no," Oakland sighed, pinching her nose. "You know we have to be up early tomorrow to make the return trip back to Pearl Harbor. The entire Pacific coast is panicking right now about the possibility of a similar abyssal attack on U.S. soil, and we left behind the bulk of the fleet at Midway in order to reach Ogasawara in time."

"We could make it quick!" Nicholas protested.

"Quick, my foot!" Atlanta snapped. "You three are night owls, and bad ones at that! I'm the one having to drag you three out of bed the past few days!"

"Okay, okay, alright, you win ma," O'Bannon surrendered, putting her hands in the air. "We'll go to straight to bed."

"No funny business?"

"No funny business. You won't see a peep from us." Her sisters shot the destroyer daggers at her unconditional terms.

"We'll be checking the halls later tonight," Oakland warned.

* * *

"I can't believe you!" Nicholas hissed, angrily kicking the post of their bunkbed. "We could have bargained with them to create a loophole but _nooooo_ , you had to just give in."

"I don't think I've ever seen you this feisty," Taylor remarked, staring boredly at the ceiling. "I mean Oakland is right, it's not like Mikasa is disappearing tomorrow or anything. Isn't that right, O'Bannon?"

"Psst," Nicholas whispered, "this is your cue where everything goes absolutely wrong!" O'Bannon ignored them, instead scowling furiously at the pages of the book she was reading.

"Oh come on O'Bannon, it can't be that interesting. What is it about, potatoes?"

"Shush," she frowned, tapping her index finger in annoyance.

Nicholas leapt into the chair beside her. "Well, well, well," she snickered, "is that Johnston's _private diary_ in your hands?" She pointed at the scrawly handwriting on the cover that said "PROPERTY OF DD-557. FOR JOHNSTON'S EYES ONLY" in large letters.

"Rulebook," O'Bannon corrected. "Stop interrupting me."

"They haven't been up here for a few weeks now. It's probably out of date by a few dozen rules."

"One hundred actually, but again, shh."

"Are you really O'Bannon?" Nicholas demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "What's with the maturity all of a-"

"Got it." She slammed the book shut and opened the small drawer at their study table. O'Bannon lifted the wooden bottom to reveal a wad of heavily folded papers and a nail file.

"What are these?" Taylor asked incredulously as the papers expanded to the size of her mattress.

"Plans. Duh," O'Bannon rolled her eyes as she studied the ink drawings.

"You've got to be kidding me." Nicholas stared at them in disbelief.

"I'm not. Heermann told me that they got really bored one day and mapped out the entire base's ventilation systems. Apparently it's in their heads that Kongō uses them to ambush troublemakers, so they wanted to figure out how long it would take for her to chase after them."

"Then why hide the plans?"

"So that the cruisers and battleships don't find them. Duh again."

"Hold on," Taylor interrupted. "Isn't the naval hospital in a separate building?"

"Don't worry," she lifted up another sketch, "Taffy 3 got us covered there too."

"Let me get this straight. We're going to crawl into the ventilation shafts," Taylor pointed above them, "sneak out of the building through the exhaust, sneak _into_ the naval hospital, sneak _inside_ the naval hospital's ventilation system, then somehow find Mikasa's room and then break _into_ it."

"Yep!"

"And I thought Johnston and Hoel were insane," Taylor groaned. "We're supposed to be the _sane_ ones here."

"Hey, this isn't a prank. I don't think I'm the only one who wants to see what she's like, and Missouri can't bring herself to ease up the regulations a bit just to say hello. Besides, maybe she's a nice person and will let us take a picture with her!"

"Oooorrrrr, we could just jump out the window and then ask to be admitted into the hospital like normal people."

"Jump out the window? As destroyers? Taylor, don't be crazy! We'll probably create a crater in the pavement and wake up Atlanta and Oakland. I really _really_ don't want to face a grumpy Atlanta again," O'Bannon shivered.

"Fine, we'll do it your way, but do you want to know the chances of us messing this up?" Taylor asked.

"Nicholas, start unscrewing that plate," O'Bannon called out, ignoring her sister. "I'll grab a camera."

"It's high. It's very, very high."

* * *

 _CLANG!_

"Hm?" Mikasa looked around the dark room, careful not to shift her shoulder and upset Akatsuki's nap.

"SHHHHHHHH!" someone whispered loudly.

"And just when I could finally have a restful snooze," Mikasa lamented, rousing her body into wakefulness.

There was a loud thud as someone, or _several_ someones, collided violently with a wallpost.

"Nicholas!" came an angry voice. "Can't you be any less clumsy?"

"How was I supposed to know there'd be a column right there? Freaking Jap architects…"

"Well, you have this handy-dandy thing called-"

"SHHHHHHHHHHH!" the first voice hissed again. "Do you want to get us all killed?!"

"Just a warning, whoever you are," Mikasa called out. "I have my guns calibrated to fire on this very room if necessary. I don't need my eyes to see you; I've participated in night battles before so I know very well exactly where you are."

The three voices immediately fell silent. She could feel the fear radiating from the room's intruders.

 _Clink._

The pre-dreadnought shielded her eyes as a blinding light ( _was that a searchlight?_ ) shone straight into her face. She could see the outline of three girls, teenagers perhaps, behind it.

"Congratulations," the middle one spoke, "you are being visited. Please do not resist." She couldn't be smirk at the emphasis on _please._

"And if I do?" Mikasa replied innocently, letting her head rest in her hands on the edge of the pool. She gazed unrepentantly right back at the light wielder.

"Well, well," the wielder stammered, "you promise you won't hurt us…right?"

"Hmm," she stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I don't see why not." The three girls sighed in relief, causing her to chuckle.

"You do realize I had no intentions of even laying a finger on you three, yes? I'd like to think myself civilized enough to not resort to violence every time I'm in an unusual situation. Do you mind turning that searchlight away? I don't want to wake her up," Mikasa pointed at the still-sleeping Akatsuki perched on her right arm.

"T-that's good news," they gulped as they politely focused the light elsewhere. She could see their physical features clearly now. In the center was a girl with short, curly red hair and brown eyes, an Irishwoman by the looks of it. She was flanked by a glasses-wearing brunette to her right and a dark-haired adventure-seeker to her left. All three of them wore sailor suits…and Dixie Cups, if her memory served her correctly. They were definitely not the thugs and thieves that had disturbed rest her earlier that afternoon and had even tried to drown her.

Mikasa cleared her throat. "So, who are you and what brings you three here on a rampage in the middle of the night? It's impolite to break into someone's house and not introduce yourself you know."

"Right. O'Bannon, ma'am!" the red haired girl bowed.

"Nicholas, at your service!"the adventurer saluted.

"Taylor's the name. Salutations!" the brunette waved.

"Those sound like English names, and definitely not human ones since you only have a first name," Mikasa mused. "Are you spirits of the Royal Navy?"

"We're American and members of the United States Navy, ma'am!"

"American, you said? I should have guessed from your accents and your audacity in coming in here unannounced. The United States does have a reputation for that sort of thing…at least when I was around."

She frowned. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? Battleship Mikasa, a self-proclaimed defender of Japan, the National Spirit, and English culture." The trio merely laughed nervously at her statements.

"Why are you so afraid of me?" she asked curiously, sensing their continued discomfort at her presence. "I mean you all ran the Great White Fleet around our country and all, but the gesture was intended to promote goodwill for both sides. Besides, some Americans helped restore me," at this Mikasa happily pointed to her body. "What could I possibly hold against you?"

"Well, there was a-"

"We were afraid you would try and colonize us since you're part British," O'Bannon said quickly, stepping on her sister's foot.

The three destroyers watched as Mikasa's face twitched and then melted into hysterical laughter.

"The Queen already has Ireland and Scotland for that," she gasped, struggling to recover her breath. "Is it because of my English accent? I didn't realize it was that noticeable."

"That, and Tsushima," Nicholas added weakly. "One of our friends wanted to come along, but she was scared you might hate her."

The pre-dreadnought cast the destroyer a suspicious look. "Is she a Tsarist?" she demanded.

"No, she's American like us. She was just afraid you'd be a bit nationalistic and hate her."

"Then why would I dislike her? A strong country has strong friends, and I'd be more than welcome to share a cuppa with her. If you Americans are strong enough to stomach black tea of course," she waved a finger challengingly.

"That'd be the least of our problems. Wait until you see our cuisine!"

"Is that a challenge I hear, Nicholas?"

O'Bannon laughed as the two got into an argument over whether English or American meals were artistically superior before remembering the purpose of their trip.

"Mikasa, do you mind if I take a picture of you for our friend? I'd like to show her proof you aren't scary."

"Of course, though I can't guarantee 'not being scary' if you Americans continue to refuse to see the merits of tea," she raised a playful eyebrow.

* * *

It was pleasant meeting some new faces, but eventually she grew tired. O'Bannon and her sisters felt the same, and the four of them decided that after taking one last set of photos they would part ways, with the destroyers preparing for their long trip later that morning and leaving the battleship to get some well-needed rest.

At least, she hoped.

"O'Bannon," Mikasa called out as the three destroyers prepared to leave, "I assume that everyone and their grandmother know I'm here?"

"…probably," the girl replied sheepishly.

She sighed as she slunk back into the pool, momentarily giving Akatsuki a bewildered glance as the little destroyer slept soundly through the entire commotion.

"I shouldn't bet on getting much sleep tonight then, should I?"

"As an experienced bookie, I'd say no."

* * *

"You three were up early this morning," Atlanta said suspiciously as the American ship girls steamed out of Tokyo Bay into the Pacific Ocean. They had left shortly before daybreak, hoping to use the sleepy morning to beat any abyssals that may be lurking in the area.

"We went to bed early, that's why," Taylor replied, suppressing a violent yawn.

"Well I'm glad," Wasp grunted. "It's a long trip back to Midway Atoll, and then from there to Pearl Harbor. Even with all of our supplies it will be a pretty exhausting trip."

"No kidding," O'Bannon groaned, slapping her face to keep herself awake.

"Let me guess, you visited Mikasa," Missouri sighed, putting two and two together, "and got what was coming at you."

"No we didn't!" Nicholas retorted a little too quickly. "How was your sleep anyway?"

"Excellent considering that Kongō and the others were out. I pretty much had the entire room to myself. But stop changing the subject. Why are you all so tired?"

"To give you _this_. _"_

"You used an actual camera?" Saratoga giggled as Missouri's eyebrows rose sky-high at the picture O'Bannon showed them.

"Well, we didn't want to confuse her with using our cell phones, with her still being disorientated and all."

"How nice of you," Missouri curled her lips. "Wasp, don't you think she grins like SoDak when we can actually get her to do something important?"

"I was thinking more like Saratoga or Washington, actually."

"I don't smile like that! And Washington's smiles have a funny edge to them once in a blue moon!"

"I agree with you, Sara. That's definitely an 'I shit the Queen' face, kind of like what Warspite makes except with Kongō's 'I'm going to kill you for touching Goto' smirk mixed in."

"I guess we can all agree then that's she not _too_ intimidating," Missouri concluded aloud. "I assume she's as friendly in person?" The three Fletchers nodded.

"I won't even ask how you got inside the hospital without us knowing." O'Bannon and Nicholas gave Taylor a triumphant look.

"Well, back to your positions, girls. Wouldn't want to be surprised if a submarine showed up. Though I will say… " Atlanta's voice trailed off ominously.

"Say what?"

"About Kongō and her travel methods…it's true."

* * *

For the third time that morning, she was woken up the sound of something clinking and clattering about the room.

"It's only eight in the morning," Mikasa groaned, deducing the time by the steady stream of light shining on her face.

"Here, have some breakfast," a voice beside her replied, handing her a cup of tea.

She smiled as the rich taste rolled over her tongue. "This is some strong black tea. You have my gratitude."

"No problem."

Mikasa turned to face her visitor. It was the shrine maiden from the park.

"Ah, it's you again. I appreciate your desire to visit me while I am not well." The maiden merely nodded in response, which didn't escape Mikasa's notice.

"Is something the matter?"

"You don't remember me, do you, Mikasa-san?" the girl gave her a pained look. She gave a start as she realized the shrine maiden addressed her by her real name.

"Of course I do. You're the shrine maiden who was having a party in the park a couple of weeks ago. But how do you know…"

"Sis, redo your hair. You're confusing her," came a voice behind her.

She nearly dropped her tea into the pool as the maiden took off her headband and slowly tidied her hair into two familiar pointy tufts on either side of her head.

"K-K-Kongō, is that you?"

"Why did you lie to me at the park?" she asked quietly, letting her brown hair fall back to her shoulders.

"I…I was afraid," Mikasa looked at the pool guiltily. "I'm only a pre-dreadnought. You know I was already out-of-date by the time I was retired. You have to understand," she stammered, "the IJA sent a special task force to protect me. I almost lost them. I hadn't been practicing how to use my guns…" her voice trailed off as she buried her face in her arms.

"It's okay," Kongō cooed as she reached out and attempted to give her a tearful hug.

"I'm so, so sorry I didn't recognize you. You've grown so much," Mikasa whispered softly. "You were still a young woman that last time we talked," giving a nod at Kongō's rounded figure.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I was just worried that you had forgotten about us. And Mikasa, you did splendidly. Everyone knows about what happened in the park."

"But it was just ten planes. Not a battleship. Not a cruiser. Not even a destroyer. Just aircraft."

"According to my calculations, the chances of a battleship being able to pull that off in such a situation is essentially zero," added another voice behind her.

Mikasa whirled around and came face to face with three other girls also dressed in miko outfits. She looked at Kongō, then back at them. Four Kongō sisters, four shrine maidens. It couldn't be a coincidence. And there was only one chatty Kongō she knew with black hair and glasses…

"I guess that means it's guaranteed since Kirishima is doing the calculations," she deadpanned. Immediately her sisters cackled in amusement.

"Mikasa is okay!" Haruna giggled. Her spectacled sister on the other hand reddened and folded her arms.

"That was _once_ , okay?! I don't always collide with destroyers."

"That's not what Fuji told me," Mikasa returned, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway," she cast a worried glance at Hiei and Haruna, "Why is your hair so short now, Hiei? And when did your hair turn grey, Haruna?"

Haruna studied her hair for a second before giving the battleship a cheerful thumbs up. "I don't know, Mikasa, but this is perfectly okay!"

"Uh, it kinda became this way after Japan modernized the four of us into battleships," Hiei flushed pink, "and sis said she liked it so I kept it."

"Wait…so you four aren't battlecruisers anymore?"

"Nope!" Kongō grinned. "We're 'Fast Battleships,' dess! Now we can run everywhere and give everyone our 'Burning Love!'"

"Including Admiral Goto," Kirishima whispered loudly to Mikasa.

"Yes, he and I happily enjoy our BURNING LOVE!"

"Wait," Mikasa's eyes widened to the point they dwarfed the bores of her twelve inch guns. "You're in a relationship with an _admiral_?"

"Like you said, I've grown so much since we last met," she winked. "He's in charge of this Naval Base!"

"I feel like I should be personally concerned that you're in love with an admiral who's just a mirror's flip away from having the same name as a commander I know. But that's not what concerns me," the pre-dreadnought replied, taking a hearty sip of her tea.

"Don't worry, he's not a certain _Tōgō Heihachiro_!" Kongō coughed loudly.

"About this 'Burning Love' of yours…does it involve masochism?" she inquired, dodging her friend's jab.

"Nope!"

"Immolation?"

"Nope!"

"Then good heavens Kongō," Mikasa downed the rest of her cup as if she was a drunkard in a bar, "you just told me something I never wanted to know!"

"Wait…so you don't want to know about our 'Burning Love'?"

She put her cup down on the floor. "You are giving this 'Admiral Goto' your 'Burning Love' correct?"

"Yes!"

"And it's not slang for any…techniques you two are using?"

"Nope!"

"So you're telling me," she gave the fast battleship a scandalized look, "you are giving your lover _syphilis_?"

"MIKASA-SAN!"

"Never change, you four, never change," Mikasa laughed, slinking back into the pool as Kongō's face resembled a boiling teapot, blushing so furiously that steam whistled out of her ears. Mikasa's amusement quickly transformed into alarm, however, when she noticed an absent weight on her right shoulder.

"Where did Akatsuki go?" she asked worriedly.

"She's getting breakfast in the mess now with her sisters," a purple-haired woman answered as she popped out from behind a wallpost. "I don't like watching my girls go hungry, so sis and I took a trip over here ourselves even though we're exhausted. We were escorting a supply convoy that was carrying fuel that the JMSDF desperately needs, so we were up all night."

"So _you're_ Tenryū. Akatsuki spoke dearly of you."

"Heh," she straightened her cardigan sheepishly, "it's what happens when you're a light cruiser old enough to be their mom and tasked with keeping watch over them."

"Hold on," Mikasa rubbed her temples. "You're Tenryū."

"I thought we just established that."

"No, as in lead ship of the postwar destroyer leader class Tenryū. I'm pleasantly surprised that you were around long enough to work with her; I was under the impression that you wouldn't be considered a frontline cruiser by the time she was launched."

"The IJN worked in strange ways," she chuckled nervously.

"Talk about it. What's with the purple hair and eyepatch, though? Are you a Wakō pirate now? Is this a new trend to have different hair colors and styles than what I remember just to confound me?"

"Tenryū's hair is like that because Akatsuki likes it that way," chanted a sing-song voice.

"Sis! You know that's not true!"

"Tenryū's right. None of us have any control over our appearances except for hairstyle," remarked yet another visitor passively as she watched her partner down some breakfast she had brought with her. "All of us woke up as we are now. It takes some time getting used to the changes unless you want to dye it back to its original color."

"Well, here's to my hair staying black," Mikasa commented, nervously pulling at her hair as if it might turn blue at any moment. "Who are you two, by the way? Is there anyone else in this room that I haven't met yet?"

She jumped as another two visitors emerged from hiding and waved hello, bringing the grand total of unknown guests to four.

"Have you all been here this entire time?" the startled spirit demanded.

"It wouldn't be polite to interrupt a friendly reunion," one of the newcomers smirked, folding her arms over her modified miko outfit. "I must say your banter is as humorous as ever, Mikasa."

"I could say the same for you, Ise. You're still as optimistic as ever."

"Yes, but it's a different age now," Ise replied, beckoning for her sister to approach who bowed in greeting. "You have a lot of catching up to do."

"I don't imagine it shouldn't be that much of a catch-up. Japan's still standing, Tokyo is still called Tokyo, and this place," she rolled her head, "is still Yokosuka."

"It's possible since you were a museum ship that you'll be the most up-to-date on things out of all us," Kirishima pondered. "What's the most recent thing you remember?"

"Uh…some Americans and Japanese working on my refit? I guess that's not good judging by your face?" she frowned as the fast battleship reached for her glasses.

"Is there anything _else_ that you remember?"

"Uh…" _Why was she having so much trouble remembering things now? She had even chronicled her memories on a little piece of paper at one point._ "The Navy decommissioned me?" Kirishima smacked her face.

"I take it that's extremely bad?"

"Mikasa, do you remember what period that was in?"

"The Taishō period, of course…I guess Yoshihito-sama has been dead for a long time now, hasn't he?"

Ise snorted. "That's putting it _nicely_."

"Mikasa-san," Kirishima tilted her head in confusion. "What have you been doing this entire time? There's an incredible time gap between 1923 and the memory you just described to us."

"Eh…napping?"

Kirishima and Ise looked at each other.

"Kako Syndrome?"

"Kako Syndrome."

"Who's Kako?"

"A heavy cruiser that likes to sleep a lot," Kongō stated as she reached for a scone she had brought with her. "She's basically like that American folk hero, Ras, Rasputin van…"

"Rip van Winkle. I see now," the pre-dreadnought sighed. "It looks like I'm really behind the times. You're all here to welcome me to whatever year it is now."

"Actually, that's Goto's job," the passive visitor chimed in. "We're here to say hello and make sure you don't hurt anyway."

"I'm a civilized woman," Mikasa snorted, pouring herself another cup of tea. "I only attack murderers, not civilians and guests."

"Then what do you explain the incident that caused this entire floor to go into lockdown?"

"Oh, you must mean those masked men and women. I don't believe the rules of hospitality extend to those who try and drown people just minding their own business."

"Those masked men and women weren't murderers, Mikasa," Kirishima corrected worriedly. "They were _doctors_. _"_

"WHAT?!" Everyone flinched and ducked as the dark liquid flew everywhere.

"Can you ask them to come here at once?" she looked at them pleadingly. "To think I tried to attack people trying to protect me…"

"I wouldn't worry too much, Mikasa-sama," Tenryū replied assuringly. "No one was hurt, and the JSDF explained the situation to them."

"But still," there was a soft sigh, "can you ask Goto for me sometime?"

"Of course."

"Mmmm, breakfast!"

Everyone turned and stared at the hungry visitor that had rudely interrupted the conversation.

"Seriously?" Her stoic partner groaned, wilting under their combined glares.

"But these biscuits are still fresh!" the famished guest moaned obliviously, downing the remaining food as if she had been starving for a year. "You have to try the toast too!" She waved a piece of bread before Mikasa's eyes. "Want one?"

Mikasa shook her head.

"Beg pardon, but who are you two? So far I've been able to recognize everyone, even when Tenryū and Tatsuta decided to go full bohemian. You aren't dressed like the others either," she added, studying the roads tied over their armor.

"That is completely forgivable. Both of us are aircraft carriers."

"Aircraft carriers, you say...Odd, I only remember Hōshō being in service before I was memorialized."

"Both of us were originally battlecruisers," the stoic carrier shifted her gaze downwards. "We were later converted to aircraft carriers under terms of that Treaty."

"I remember now," Mikasa grimaced as old memories resurfaced. "So Amagi and Akagi, then? You guys don't look anything alike."

"That's because we aren't sisters," she lowered her voice and sat down beside the pool. "Amagi didn't make it."

"She didn't make it? But…I thought they were almost done converting her before I was decommissioned."

"Do you remember the Earthquake?"

"How could I forget it? I consider myself lucky that all I received was a crack to the hull considering all the destruction…you can't mean…" she looked at the carrier in horror, who gave a terse nod.

"The poor girl," Mikasa whispered.

"She never saw it coming. The IJN thought it was too costly to recover her, so I…was converted in her stead." She gave the pre-dreadnought a gentle salute. "Former Tosa-class battleship Kaga, a member of the First Carrier Division."

"Kaga, you said? I am honored to meet one of my successors-to-be. I hope you made our country proud."

"About that…" the pony-tailed brunette turned her head down regretfully. "I am afraid I cannot answer that in the affirmative. My service is littered with mistakes and regrets, which I will not shame you by retelling them. I have been trying to redeem myself these past few years, but-" her rambling was halted by an abrupt finger prod to her neck.

"Chin up. It is the thought that matters more than anything else. I would be lying if I said I didn't have my own regrets. Anyway…so they actually kept you four on the stocks instead of dismantling you? I am glad to hear that. Though, does that mean…" she looked at Kongō thoughtfully, who shook her head in denial.

"The IJN didn't actually scrap the rest of the English returnees, but they aren't here either," she replied sadly.

"…Oh. I wanted to tell Fuji a funny story if she happened to be around. You know some girls from the USN tried sneaking into here last night," everyone immediately tensed up, "Cheeky little buggers," Mikasa giggled before sensing the intense uneasiness radiating throughout the room.

"Is something the matter?"

"Nothing!" Kongō chirped cheerfully, giving the battleship her best fake smile.

"Good, I was just about to say I'd love to show those girls what the IJN is made of myself."

"JMSDF, you mean," Kirishima corrected again before she could stop herself.

Everyone immediately fell silent.

"Nee-san," Hiei hissed as her spectacled sister belatedly covered her mouth.

"Hahahahahaha…"

"That was a good joke, Kirishima," Mikasa chuckled, "for a moment I also fell for that. To think that Japan would discard the navy for a special elite task force…"

 _Knock. Knock._

"You can come in! I'm not a Transylvanian so I don't bite!"

Two tall women, a ravenette and a brunette, entered. "We hate to break this up, but Goto needs our assistance again," the ravenette's deep voice boomed. "He wants to see if we can fix up the docks."

"Blimey!" Kongō swung her arm in annoyance as she pocketed something. "It's almost tea time, too! We shan't be late!"

The woman frowned. "Kongō, don't go full Lancashire on me. There'll be time for tea later. Mikasa-san, if you will excuse us," she bowed, and left the room.

"Well," the fast battleship sighed, "I guess we'll be heading out now. You know how Nagato is."

Mikasa made a deep frown and cleared her throat. "The Big Seven does not stop for anything! We will prepare our bodies and minds for the decisive battle against any and everything! Except against small children…"

"Gah!" Nagato stuck her head back in the doorway, nearly bending the antennae of her headset in the process. "I heard that!"

"English returnees and their humor," Ise chuckled as the visitors slowly filed out. Kongō spun around one last time and gave a cheerful wave.

"Hey! If you need anything, give me a shout, dess!"

"Actually, about that," Mikasa pointed at the rectangular bulge in Kongō's pocket. "May I see that, please?"

"Of course, dess!"

"What is this?" she asked suspiciously, turning it left and right as she squinted at it.

"It's a telephone!"

"Don't be daft, where is the bell?"

"Ahem." Nagato's sister knocked on the doorpost as she stood at the room's entrance.

"Ah, Mutsu. Long time no see. Could you give us a few minutes? Kongō's in the middle of trying to pass this off to me as a telephone."

"I'm afraid not, Mikasa-san. Best not keep Nagato waiting. She's still all wound up from the attack."

"Don't worry, Mikasa-san! You'll figure out," Kongō smirked as she danced out the door, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Augh, why am I such a luddite…let's see what this does."

She carefully placed it on the floor of the room, suspecting that it would not go well with the watery bed below. Mikasa blinked as a flash of light briefly blinded her as she pressed down on the circle on the glassy-side of the object. An array of numbers placed in circles before a self-portrait of the Kongō sisters greeted her.

"Huh, a puzzle…?"

* * *

 **A/N:** I think I made this chapter a little too long, but I preferred to not break it up into multiple smaller sections since they are all on the same subject.

Some other things:

-Mikasa's "Burning Love" jab is inaccurate symptomatically, but the implications were the same.  
-Sometimes Barrovian is considered part of the Lancashire Dialect rather than its own distinct accent due to the region's historical ties with Lancashire; since most kanmusu probably wouldn't know all the British regional accents (I certainly don't) they'd probably lop it together with regions they were more familiar with.


	12. Dreams and Nightmares: Now and Then

**A/N:** Warning, this chapter suddenly takes a dark turn discussing a potentially contentious issue before returning back to humorous stuff.

* * *

"Hm, it's a gramophone as well," she muttered, adding the feature to her ever-growing mental list of things this "phone" could do as it blasted out some horrid rhythm of noises that apparently passed for music.

At first, she had been rather disappointed with the device; the puzzle had been incredibly easy to crack (it was Kongō's launch date) and didn't reset once completed. Then she discovered the wide array of tiles that she could move around with her fingertips hidden beneath the puzzle. Just to make things more complicated, the tiles could apparently be tapped (after wrestling with the confounded contraption for an hour she found it possible to return back to the array by tapping on the big round button a few times until a box titled 'BACK' showed up), and boy, the things she could tap on.

The phone had given her a pleasant surprise when she hit the "camera" tile. Not only could it zoom in and out, it could be used as a mirror to groom herself, to say nothing of the special "video" option that could record films! The cinema industry must have gone extinct thanks to this little instrument. There was a gallery section as well to review captured photos, but Mikasa thought better of it after seeing a photo that well, was probably meant for Goto's eyes only. She'd rather not find out what her old friend had been up to in her absence.

Then she found a cornucopia of other tiles that offered all sorts of entertainment for the bored user. A translator that could translate Japanese and English into other languages and vice versa (not that there was any need to speak in any other uncivilized tongue, mind you). A tile that simulated a game of Mahjong, but she quickly lost interest after a few turns (it was 'Shiki and Kaimon that were the master of games, not her). Apparently it was also possible to communicate nonverbally by means of "text" and "email," (whatever _that_ meant-what was wrong with normal mail? Was there amail and bmail too?) though why anyone would want to do so instead of using radio or actually talking was beyond her.

She had just finished admiring a cat-feeding game that Kongō had furtively stashed away in some obscure corner of the display when a notification popped up warning it was at half-battery.

"So it will die after it hits zero and require replacement? What a useless telephone!" Not wanting to destroy Kongō's prized object, she decided to return back to the first column of tiles to study them before putting it away.

That's when she saw a tile titled, "Internet."

"What is this?" she murmured as a screen popped up asking what she wanted to search. As she pressed on the search box, a keyboard appeared.

"This thing is a _typewriter_ _too_? What a time to be alive!"

The phone stared at her expectantly, awaiting her next move.

"Ah, to hell with it. _T-e-a_." Her eyebrows nearly rose off her face as a bunch of recipes and articles about the fabled drink appeared before her.

"Not bad, telephone. Let's try something harder." She strummed her fingers. " _I-v-a-n-h-o-e_."

She stared in disbelief as the phone offer suggestions on reviews to read as well as offering a summary of the book. There were even film adaptations to watch, but she doubted that they could do the literary novel justice. However, she couldn't turn her eyes away from a link titled "The Gutenberg Project." Tapping on it revealed an entire trove of novels available for the public to read, her personal favorites included.

"I'm beginning to understand why Kongō is so fond of you, dear device," Mikasa stated as she tapped on a work by Sir Author Conan Doyle and began reading.

"If only Yashima was still around to see this," she sighed dreamily. "She'd probably be babbling incoherently and slobbering all over the telephone by now…"

* * *

 _Warning: Your phone is at twenty percent battery._

"And I'm only halfway through," she pouted, reluctantly preparing to leave the page. "I wonder if the IJN will let me have one of these…" at that thought she suddenly stood at attention.

"Hold on…the phone…why yes of course," she breathed, memories of a burning Tokyo in the distance haunting her mind. "Dear phone…," she mumbled as she typed in a detailed description of her dream. Whatever she was expecting, Mikasa was completely unprepared for what she saw.

"Are those…people?" she whispered as a picture popped up showing a bunch of charred husks huddled near a line of abandoned vehicles. "No, it can't be…"

Attempting to search again gave just as discouraging results. "From Wikipedia: 'The Bombing of Tokyo, often referred to as part of the air raids on Japan by the United States Army Air Forces during the Pacific Campaigns of World War II," the internet offered.

 _"_ _What could I possibly hold against you?"_

 _"_ _Well, there was a-"_

 _"_ _We were afraid you would try and colonize us since you're part British."_

They knew. The girls had known what they had done and _lied_ to her.

"I hope we won the war and that no one else suffered their fate," she scowled. If the United States was staffed with such cruel monsters, they deserved to be beaten. She tentatively followed the referrals the internet gave her until she came to the corresponding Wikipedia page.

"The war culminated in the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, resulting in the Japanese announcement to surrender."

 _No. No, it can't be._ _Why would we give in to two attacks-_

Her heart stopped as she read the site's description of the attacks. Two planes, very much like the ones she had fought, had dropped one bomb each over each city, nearly wiping them off the face of the earth.

 _Two bombs. Two cities._

"But why? Why kill innocent civilians?" she demanded, nearly breaking the phone in rage as she read the how American soldiers visited the cities to give detailed reports of the damage done after the attacks.

 _"_ _I'm telling you, the Russian developments at Port Arthur are a clear sign they intend to attack us!" Yashima roared, banging her fist on the table. "They want to test our strength and our tolerance, and then they will mercilessly invade and divide up this country like they did with China. Have you read this newspaper?" she angrily held up a tattered article. "I can't read Teutonic savagery, but I'm pretty sure_ _ **that,**_ _" pointing at two words in the headline, "is an insult trying to goad Russia to deal with us!"_

 _"_ _I'm inclined to agree," Fuji added reluctantly. "Russia is clearly indicating to us that they have the resources to develop and maintain not one_ _ **but two**_ _separate fleets. At any moment, all hope of a strong Japan capable of resisting foreign influence could be lost."_

 _"_ _What does Admiral Samejima think?" Asahi asked nervously. "Surely the Japanese officers have a better sense of the situation then we do."_

 _"_ _He won't be leading the fleet if we go to war," Hatsuse answered quietly._

 _"_ _Ehhhhhh?!"_

 _"_ _It was in the telegram sent this morning," she continued, snatching the transcribed message off of Shikishima's dozing form. "They've appointed Commandant Tōgō Heihachiro in anticipation of the attacks."_

 _"_ _You mean when we attack," Kaimon corrected, casually working on a woodcut as she listened to their debate._

 _"_ _What makes you so sure of that?" Yashima demanded. "The country we have promised to protect is trying to bargain for its existence at this very moment at Saint Petersburg, and the Russians are showing no sign of wanting to give in."_

 _"_ _That's the problem with you Rangaku girls," the corvette sighed, giving the battleship a weary look. "You read too much Shakespeare and are inspired to rash action when there is no need for it."_

 _"_ _Oh, and is Nabeshima Naoshige any better? Basically saying that the way of living is death?"_

 _"_ _You are missing his point and mine own. In the Sengoku Jidai-"_

 _"_ _Not one of your stories again!"_

 _"_ _Please hear me out, Yashima. It is impolite to interrupt. In the Sengoku Jidai, Japan learned how to be diplomatically tactful, even though we eventually lost that once the country was reunified. If you read into the negotiations made by some of the clans, it becomes quite clear what the Russians are doing. They are trying to buy more time because they know we are ready and they are not. And it shows," she continued. "Korea. China. Manchuria. Nansei Islands. It's not ingrained in our spirits to defend unless we have no other choice. When we feel trapped, we attack."_

She breathed slowly and typed in "Why did the United States enter war against Japan?"

"No…" The pre-dreadnought watched as page after page of results provided photos, reports, and even film footage of Japanese aircraft dropping bombs and torpedoes on an unsuspecting American fleet. She didn't need to be there to hear the intense cries of agony each ship uttered as they fell to the attacks.

 _"_ _One more thing, Yashima," Kaimon added, studying her knife to see if it needed sharpening, "while this may not be the best analogy, a general once said 'arouse a bee and it will came at you with the force of a dragon.' While I believe it applies best to the fact that Russia has provoked us to act, it also applies to the enemy once the Russians respond. They may have only a budding force near Korea, but once the army arrives from Europe…"_

But there was something bothering her about that reasoning. Hadn't she also participated in a surprise attack (admittedly, it wasn't supposed to be a surprise, but those Russian ministers simply refused to translate the declaration of war) on Port Arthur? Were the atomic bombings not also surprise attacks? What made the Americans so determined to defeat them?

 _"…_ _during the Pacific Campaigns of World War II."_

"Of course, it can't possibly be that simple."

Mikasa searched the website for articles about this "Second World War" and began to read…

* * *

 _The Mukden Incident. The May 15 Incident. The Shanghai Incident. The February 26 Incident. The Rape of Nanjing. Hyakunin-giri kyōsō. Pleasure Women._

"Why, just why?" she pleaded as struggled to turn her eyes away from a grisly scene of Japanese officers proudly beheading unarmed Chinese soldiers. This was not the Japan she had known, that she had vowed to protect. It just couldn't be…could it?

 _The Protectoracy of Korea. The Port Arthur Massacre. The assassination of Myeongseong._

"No, no, those are different. That was before my time, I wasn't involved, they can't be equated!"

 _They could because they_ _ **are.**_ _Don't stick your head in the sand, you know that the country has been in the wrong before.  
_  
"If it has, I will do my best to do right wherever I can," she vowed, and braved on in her search.

 _Burn All, Kill All, Loot All. The Bataan Death March. The Response to the Doolittle Raid. War Crimes of the Submarine I-8._

What had happened. Why was her country demonstrating such little mercy to its enemies? Was the National Spirit not about creating a strong national identity with traditional and Western ideals?

Why was the Emperor not intervening? Why was there no sane voice in the cabinet, to make the army and navy see sense?

 _Bushido. Kamikaze Attacks._

"So this is what the National Spirit has come to…" It was not the model of feudalistic chivalry and honor that Kenshin and Shingen had demonstrated, but an obsession with death.

"I can't…read…anymore."

But she kept on reading. She had to get to the bottom of this…

* * *

"It seems like I am too late," the man sighed, watching her pale form gaze lifelessly at the ceiling of the room.

"I had to, sir," she whispered quietly, shifting her head slightly to take a closer look. It was the middle-aged officer from the park.

"There are easier ways to break such events," he shook his head, "and Kongō giving you her phone and you finding out on your own is not one of them."

The officer picked up the device from where she had left it at the side of the pool and grimaced. "Unit 731. That's a tough subject to stomach."

"Sir, tell me…what happened? Why has the National Spirit given way to bloodthirst for its own sake? Why was the government twiddling its thumbs when the army was doing those _things_ to its prisoners?"

"It all began shortly after you were turned into a museum ship," he sighed, sitting down beside her. "The army and navy were growing restless with treaties and the civilian government, and eventually took over as the dominant political faction by both legal and illegal means. Things spiraled out of control from there. The IJA used the National Spirit to rally public support for the invasion of Manchuria and later the rest of China. Eventually the United States had enough and started embargoes against supplies the military needed for its war effort. The rest is history."

"I hope the officers were hung," she growled. "They brought nothing but shame upon the nation."

"Mikasa," he began slowly. "Knowing what you know now…do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

She nodded.

"How do you feel about the United States? I imagine you read about how the war ended." The officer looked at her in concern when she broke out into tearful mirth.

"Honestly…I don't know. I really don't know. I feel that I should resent them for what they did to Tokyo, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, but that's not the country I remember. What sticks out to me the most is the Great White Fleet and the fact they tried to help restore my physical hull when I had been asleep for…who knows how long. In both cases they tried to demonstrate goodwill in spite of our differences. Even Fuji didn't bear them any ill will when they came in '08, and she's an English stalwart."

"Even with the War considered?"

The pre-dreadnought gazed intently at the pool below her. "Even with the War considered. Everyone was a madman in that conflict, weren't they? We tried making suicide runs against the Americans, and the Americans tried bombing runs against us. I just wonder," she looked at him uncomfortably, "the IJN and IJA don't exist anymore, do they? It didn't come to me until after everyone left, but Tenryū and Kirishima referred to them both in past tense."

"There's no easy way to say this…both institutions were disbanded as part of the treaty and replaced with the JSDF and JMSDF, the Japanese-"

"The Japanese Self Defense Force and Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force. I deciphered the English acronym. So then, we don't even have a standing army and navy anymore, just a nominal military force," she sighed, slumping back in defeat. "So what are we now? An American protectorate? A puppet state? Does Japan even exist as a nation anymore?"

"We're allies with the United States."

"… _allies?_ "

"Mikasa…"

"Forgive me sir, but I think you misunderstood me. After all we've done, they simply wanted to become _our allies_?"

"It was considered mutually beneficial for both parties at the time given the political climate. In exchange for access to our old military bases and legal limitations on military spending, they've mostly left us alone."

"It must be some intense political climate if the United States didn't want to annex us," she muttered. "From what Fuji and Yashima told me they went to war with Spain over a single battleship, and then kept the territories they conquered afterwards. Hold on, let me guess," Mikasa wagged her index finger in the air. "The United States was worried about the Russians."

The officer flinched in response.

"Bullseye, eh? I knew they weren't up to good. That unfortunate country has been nothing but decades of turmoil and trouble."

"Mikasa…"

"I mean, they are such a weak-minded country that they can never have a lasting legacy without someone or something interrupting it. They had a king who killed his own son in anger. They are the mongrel spawn of Mongols, Vikings, and whatever else lurks there. They had an entire era called _The Time of Troubles_ because they were so uncivilized they couldn't even develop an authoritative government."

"Mikasa…" he called out warningly.

"And then look at their actions in the twentieth century! Nicholas II dared call us _Yellow Monkeys_ , and yet his nation is so undisciplined and primitive that they collapsed into a trash heap once we were done with them! They change ideologies like a human changes clothes! First it was monarchism, and now it's communism! I almost soiled myself silly trying to help out the Tsarists and their pitiful army in Siberia. What a horrid and peculiar institution!"

"Mikasa!"

"Ah, it seems I have let my passions get the better of me. Forgive me sir for my rant. I am immensely glad that Japan decided to conduct business with the United States instead of _that country_. Am I correct?"

The officer offered a halting choking sound in response.

"No, no, **no** ," she snarled, clawing her way towards him. "You mean we're allies with **them** too?"

"Mikasa! Get a hold of yourself!" he shouted, finally regaining control of his voice. She immediately fell silent.

"Things are different now. The current crisis on the seas means that every nation in the world has tried to put aside old differences _just enough_ to have some semblance of cooperation to deal with the mutual threat. Even though everyone knows that said joint operations will fall apart if someone merely _breathes_ on them, I will have your head if you do anything to even _remotely_ disturb the diplomatic situation. Am I clear?"

"…Extremely clear, sir," she replied reluctantly.

"There are additional issues I need to resolve with you," he continued, "such as China and Korea."

"Ah," the officer sighed in relief as he sensed the warmth in her voice, "the Republic of China and Korea. I'm really glad China finally got their act together and overthrew that antiquated dynasty. I look forward to cooperating with them in the future; it will be nice working alongside a nation with their own brand of the National Spirit that also doesn't call us 'dwarf pirates' anymore. As for our colony…I read what we did to them in the war…if they decided to become independent after the war I can't say I blame them. I imagine that neither country is as…forgiving as the United States, however."

"I'm afraid not," he frowned. "Relations between both China and Korea are still frosty. It wasn't until about a few months ago that Japanese vessels were received in anything more than strictly business mannerisms in Shanghai. Korea is still mostly closed off to us as well in terms of government correspondence. Seoul's press is always abuzz whenever an envoy or Japanese ambassador visits."

"So there's a Republic of Korea and Republic of China now. Can't say I hate that."

"Actually…about that. The Republic of China doesn't exist anymore, diplomatically speaking."

"I should have figured that our war would have done them in," she sighed in defeat. "I assumed that they returned to a dynastic model of governance?"

"On the contrary, they avoided it. Shortly after the War however, China was engaged in a civil war, so the mainland is controlled by the Chinese Communist Party. The Republic of China is still in control of Formosa, which they now call Taiwan, but nations aren't supposed to officially recognize the latter government. A similar situation happened in Korea; the northern half is under communist control, and the southern half is a democracy."

"Bloody communists. Of course Russia would have its own share of puppets even after its post-Tsarist makeover."

"Your estimates are incorrect there as well. It's true that Russia tried to exert influence over both countries, but each nation went their own separate ways. Russia's actually a democracy now, though like the rest of Europe and the United States it's in a phase of intense political turmoil. China was trying to exert control over the northern Korea as well, but its influence has also been waning in recent years."

"The world is like 1914 all over again," Mikasa thought out loud. "I just hope I can somehow be helpful again. It felt good helping out in the park."

"We'll think of something," the officer smiled. "I actually had a few more things to tell you on that note, but I think you've had enough information thrown at you for a day. Tomorrow, one of my assistants, Akashi, and I will fill you in on the rest of the details. But first, do you have any questions you would like to ask me?"

"Hm…"

"I'm waiting."

"Hmmmm…"

"I think I'm impressed that you actually don't have _any_ questions."

"What year is it?"

"…You mean you learned to surf the web and all other sorts of features without bothering to check the phone to see _what the date is_?"

"Phones can do that?!"

"I see you have a lot to learn about technology still. Don't even get me started on computers…anyway," he maneuvered away from the topic before he opened a pandora's box, "It's January 2017, just a few weeks shy of the new lunar calendar."

"2017…so 2677 in the Imperial Year," she mused pensively. "That means I'm…almost 118, according to the date I was laid down?" At that statement Mikasa carefully studied her hands and hair. "I'm impressed that I don't look like an old crone."

"As spirits, you girls don't seem to age like humans do. I wouldn't bring up Kongō's age within a kilometer of her though," the officer winked.

"Actually, now you've made me curious since you're speaking on familiar terms with my old friend. What is your name, sir?"

"You can call me Goto or Admiral Goto. I run the Yokosuka Naval Base with the help of Nagato and a few others."

"So _you're_ the Goto I've heard so much about from Kongō," Mikasa gave him a grin that revealed some extra-sharp teeth. Perhaps _too_ sharp.

"Uh, yes…" Goto looked about the room nervously, carefully taking note of the exits.

The admiral discovered that day why Hiei sometimes called the pre-dreadnought Kongō's mother.

She lived up completely to that reputation.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hoped I approached the "Mikasa finds out about the dark side World War II and the fact Japan lost World War II" from a reasonable angle (if not, feel free to point out how I can improve it-I know this is an **_incredibly_** touchy subject in East Asian history). Given that she was decommissioned almost moments before Japan went all-out with a military-influenced government and that nationalism was pretty high in the aftermath of the Treaty of Portsmouth, Versailles, and the Washington Naval Treaty among others, Mikasa is quite patriotic and has a rose-tinted view of the past (whether or not that is a concerning development is something the admiralty is keeping tabs on). Naturally, finding out about war crimes in World War II jarred her as they brought back memories of similar events that unfolded during her life time (though she herself did not explicitly take part in said moments).

Some people might be wondering why Mikasa is so friendly to the ROC given the historical animosity between the two; to keep it brief there were some notable supporters of Sun Yat-Sen and other Republican leaders (as well as the fact that Japan supported the revolutionaries leading up to the 1911 Revolutions) in the later years Mikasa was in service.

The next chapter/part will be on a more upbeat subject than this one-this section was a bit heavy given that I wanted to address "looking beyond World War II in viewing other countries without simply saying 'get over it.'"


	13. Dreams and Nightmares: Great Spirits

**A/N:** I split up a bit of this chapter since it was already long, so now there's a little extra side snippet.. I plan to do this with longer chapters (which happens to be the case with my latest ones) to avoid giant wall of text posts.

* * *

It was a beautiful January morning. The sun was shining, and the seagulls were participating in their usual bombing runs over unsuspecting naval personnel at Yokosuka Naval Base. Even better, she woke up to the warmth and comfort of the pool (that for whatever reason was the futuristic equivalent of a mattress) and a small human staring intently into her pupils.

Wait a moment.

"Excuse me," the small person said as he stretched open her eyelids. "Do you mind if I take a look inside?"

"Say _what_ now?" Mikasa reddened, instinctively curling up. "I may be a museum ship, but I'm not…you know… _that_ _kind_ of ship."

He rolled his eyes as he flicked his pocket flashlight on and off repeatedly before her pupils. "Your _optical sights,_ madam. I need to check what type they are."

"Erm…they're grey eyes? At least that's what I've been told."

"Not your human eyes, you silly battleship. Your optical sights."

"Erm…"

"Nevermind. THEY'RE COINCIDENCE RANGEFINDERS!" he shouted to a pink haired woman studying a sheet of paper intently at the other side of the room.

"You don't say?" the woman eagerly ran over and gave the skin near the pre-dreadnought's eyes a fierce pull.

"Excuse me, could you be gentler please?" Mikasa demanded as the two threatened to pull her eyeballs out of their sockets.

"Vintage Barr and Stroud coincidence rangefinders. Impressive!" the woman gave her wrench a little twirl as she released her grasp. "Doesn't have a leg to stand on against surface radar and later coincidence models, but fascinating nonetheless!"

"I take it you are Akashi?"

"Yep! The only ship in the entire navy to be designated as a repair ship! If you have a problem, I'm the one to call to fix it!" She paused and scratched her chin thoughtfully. "Well, maybe a handful of others, but you can trust me to get the job done!"

"I believe I am fine, madam."

"Oh, don't go British on me now! It's just an examination. Think of it like the check-ups your surgeon provided for the crew."

"I'm a ship. You know, a giant metal being that floats on-AUGH!" Akashi silenced her by placing a tongue depressor in her mouth.

"Can you come here? I need to see what's in her throat." The little man climbed over as ordered and inspected it.

"All good?"

He gave the repair ship a wave in approval before crawling back out of her mouth.

"Wa der blood'n ell ishe an ex'ert?"

"I can't understand you at all."

"I said, why on earth is he considered an expert? Are humans that short nowadays?" The man gave a loud harrumph as he stood on Akashi's shoulders.

"Oh," Akashi giggled. "He's a fairy."

"A _what_ now?"

"A fairy."

"Fairies exist? I thought they were dainty little creatures, not clumsy dwarves."

"I resent that!" the man shouted, angrily waving his index finger at her.

"Well, not exactly." The repair ship folded her arms. "I should probably preface this by saying we might not be alike."

"I realized that," Mikasa returned, watching as even more little men crawled out of Akashi's ears to protect their mate. "How on earth do they fit in there, exactly?" cautiously touching her own ears to see if sailors would also come running out.

She gave a shrug. "Doctor Hideki and a few other researchers have been trying to figure that out. Apparently research teams from the United States made some progress but then resigned in distress calling it quote 'fantastically impossible bogus' or 'sparkly magical bullshit' in lay terms. I'm a kanmusu."

"A ship girl? Aren't we both?" the pre-dreadnought frowned.

"Different," Akashi shook her head. "See, I can do _this_." Mikasa made a hasty retreat as an octopus made from cranes exploded from the repair ship's back, complete with a single set of sode on her right shoulder.

"That must be a pain to stow away," she commented weakly.

"Not really." In a flash the cranes disappeared back to wherever they had come from. "It's like a reflex for kanmusu."

"You still haven't explained to me what a kanmusu is."

"Do you remember what it was like being able to manipulate your physical body, back in the day?"

"Yes." Mikasa fought back against the itch to casually rotate her turrets towards the building in response.

"Well, for a kanmusu it's different. We aren't a manifestation of our hulls; we _are_ our hulls. Basically take our humanoid personalities and combine it with the nautical capabilities."

"So the sailors," she stammered, "you **shrank** the sailors so that they could man you?" The men gathered on Akashi's shoulders rolled about in laughter.

"You blockhead! We're dead!" the man who had inspected her choked.

"…I don't follow."

"All of us," he pointed at himself and his mates, "died a long time ago. Poof. Bang. Pow. Zip. When a kanmusu returns to this world, she returns as she was at the prime of her life. Sometimes later. Sometimes earlier. It doesn't really matter; each girl has her own set of equipment based upon her historical armament and a matching crew to go with it."

"A kanmusu doesn't have a humanoid biological system," Akashi continued. "If you were to cut open my body, you wouldn't find human organs or blood; it would be machinery and ship's quarters. As in life, the crew help keep things in pristine condition. However, since we are now literally our physical hulls, the sailors, well, have to be a bit on the short side to compensate."

Mikasa opened and closed her mouth. "I'm even more confused now. How does that work? Do you weigh your historical displacement? Can you even float? Does that mean human delicacies are unhealthy, or worse, taste horrible now? Do you have to eat actual tons of food in order to keep yourself fueled? How do you feed the crew?"

"One question at a time. First question: everyone's still studying the exact reasons why. Second question: Nope, unless we are placed into a stressful situation. The spiritual nature of our existence somehow naturally scales our true weight to the average weight of a human of our height, nation dependent. Third question: yes, because we have our metal hull's buoyancy, though we can assume a human's buoyancy if we really wanted to. Fourth and Fifth Questions: Again no, because our fuel intake is scaled to the size of our boilers, which naturally are much smaller in this form. We usually avoid eating in front of our human counterparts when we can though since it often leads to awkward situations. Sixth Question: That's a secret," she winked.

"All of that…sounds useful. Is there a catch?"

"Yes. When some of the American museum ships came back as ship girls, they couldn't manipulate their metal hulls anymore. It's like a completely foreign body to your own."

"Ah," Mikasa looked downcast. To sacrifice her old body...but would it be worth it? She had already seen the mobility Akashi's form had provided. Plus, she wouldn't be feeling any of the strange sensations that ships often experienced when things interacted with their metal hulls.

"Is it possible to become a kanmusu?" she asked thoughtfully.

"You might already be one and don't know!" Akashi chuckled. "There's a reason why we put you in the hospital's natal ward, you know. Warm water has been found to be conducive to a kanmusu's health!"

"So that's why I've been resting in a pool…I do feel a bit better than before…"

"Well, there's one way to check what you are!" She put away her wrench and pulled out a very sharp paint scraper. "If you're a kanmusu, this is going to hurt, but it will only scratch your paintwork. It's like scrubbing off dead skin. And if you're not…"

"I'm going to be in a world of pain or not feel anything at all."

"If you're not a kanmusu let's hope it's the latter." Akashi raised her arm very slowly then slammed it into the battleship's forearm.

 _CLANG!_

"My arm!" the repair ship groaned as she flicked her wrist from the recoil. Just then Goto walked in.

"Did you cause that ruckus outside just now, Mikasa?" he inquired. "It sounded like something just bounced off your hull."

"I think that would be this," she answered weakly, holding up the offending instrument. "I don't think it did any good, Akashi," she added disappointedly, pointing at her completely unaffected limb.

"Don't give up hope! I'm sure we're just approaching this the wrong way!" Akashi replied cheerfully while covertly signaling to the Admiral the results.

"If you do, we'll have to wait until some other time," Goto replied. "There's someone I think you should meet at the hospital, Mikasa."

"She's out from the ICU so soon?" the pink-haired kanmusu gasped.

"The doctors called me last night to let me know," he nodded. "She's stable enough to see visitors now. They're still keeping an eye on her though."

"Keep an eye on _who_ , sir?"

"You'll see." There was a twinkle in both of their eyes.

"Is it twenty-first century etiquette to keep your friends in the dark?" Mikasa demanded.

"Not really. By the way, Mikasa," Goto jerked his head to the doorway where a doctor and nurse stood apologetically. "I believe you three know each other." At their acknowledgement the duo ran towards her and bowed.

"Mikasa-sama, forgive us," the doctor pleaded. "We simply wanted to keep you healthy. We were worried sick but should have known better than to give you something you had no idea-" His eyes widened as the battleship attempted to bow back.

"No, Doctor-san and Nurse-san, _I_ should be the one who should be sorry. You were doing your job, and it's not polite to try and hurt people who clearly cared about you in some way."

"Mikasa-sama, there is no need to…" any further protests where choked out by a tender hug.

"I am so glad that Japanese hospitality has not changed," she smiled. "By the way, please don't call me Mikasa-sama. I only proved myself once; I am unworthy of the honorific. However, I do have a request…do you happen to know where my crutches went? The Admiral is taking me to see another patient and," Mikasa pointed at her legs, "I'm not exactly an able-bodied sailor."

"Mikasa-san, I am afraid we do not know where your crutches went, but Doctor Hideki and I brought you something much nicer."

"How does a wheelchair sound, Mikasa-san?" the doctor called as he pushed it into the room.

* * *

"So how on earth did she make it out alive?"

"Yūbari conducted an analysis of the uncollapsed section of the wall. It was made from heavily angled steel-reinforced concrete."

"A blast wall?"

"A rudimentary one, to say the least, but a blast wall without a doubt."

"But since when was the workshop tailored for such an event?"

"It's not. The base and its facilities are supposed to be earthquake-proof, but someone must have tinkered with the specifications without me knowing," the Admiral glanced at her disapprovingly.

"That wasn't me," Akashi gulped.

"I actually didn't suspect you," he smirked. "It sounds like something _she_ would do."

"Are we visiting a demolitionist expert?" Mikasa interrupted.

"No." Akashi wilted as Goto glared at her. "Well…maybe. It's not her occupation though. Officially she's on the naval payroll as a lieutenant."

"She sounds dangerous."

"A bit reckless, but an incredibly fortunate woman. As are all members of the Tōgō clan."

Akashi giggled as Mikasa went white. "T-T-Tōgō?"

"Tōgō. A great-great grandniece of your old admiral. She was originally part of the crew of the destroyer _Hatakaze_ after graduating as a lieutenant in the class of 2010, but after the Toshima Incident the _Hatakaze_ was written off as a total loss. Now she's a subordinate of mine and works with Yūbari and Akashi here at Yokosuka."

"How wonderful," Mikasa sighed, "but I wonder if she will recognize me."

"She will. Have you ever had a dream in the past few years, Mikasa? With a British stew, perhaps?"

She nodded. "But why does that-" Goto and Akashi hushed her and pulled the wheelchair-ridden battleship to the side of the hallway.

"We're about to enter her room, and we'd like to see her reaction to when she finds out who you are," they grinned in unison. "Do you think you can pretend to be 'Lieutenant Gasa' for a few minutes?"

"I am more than capable of maintaining a façade if that is what you wish, sir," Mikasa replied in a mocking British accent.

"Good heavens I forgot you could do a spot-on Lancashire impression too," Goto groaned. "Just keep this whole false-identity thing under wraps, okay? I got an earful from my superiors because of your disguise during the battle."

"Very well. Also, may I express my apologies for causing you to suffer such wrath?"

"Are you being serious or sarcastic?"

"Serious of course!"

"I can never tell when British people talk…anyway…"

 _Knock. Knock._

There was the frantic shuffling of feet inside.

"You can come in!"

The three of them entered to the sight of a bob-cut wearing lieutenant innocently tasting her breakfast. At least, it would have been the perfect image of innocence had the bed not resembled the aftermath of a tornado.

"Do you know the term 'non-ambulatory' means, Lieutenant?" Goto sighed, pinching his nose.

"'cwoffse," she replied as she took a giant bite of her toast before spitting it out. "Not capable of walking."

"Which is the definition of the orders the medical staff put you under," he added sternly.

"But I wasn't walking around! I was _sliding_ around."

There was audible groaning at her retort.

"Lieutenant," the admiral frowned, "you have a shattered left wrist, an arm that had to be bolted back together with industrial-grade screws so that the fractures could heal, a fractured hip, and don't even get me started on your legs. You don't want to be a handicap for the rest of your life, no?"

"Bah, I've been in here for almost a week now-"

"It's only been _at_ _most_ four days since the attack."

"Anyway, I'm feeling okay now," Tōgō finished, absentmindedly stroking her injuries with her good arm.

"That would be the morphine talking," Goto corrected, flinching as Tōgō jolted up from her bed in pain, "and that would be the morphine's effects waning."

"I guess another week or two recuperating wouldn't be _too_ much of an issue," the animated officer sighed reluctantly as she attempted to resume eating. "I hope you three aren't here just to give me a scolding though. I got the soundest verbal beating of my life from Yūbari about half an hour before you guys arrived."

"That doesn't surprise me. We all were worried sick for you, you know. However, that doesn't excusing me demanding to know why you left your post to run to the workshop, or," Goto cleared his throat, "the blast walls in the workshop."

"Heh," she scratched her head, "so you found out about that."

"I'm waiting for your explanation, Lieutenant. Preferably the blast walls first."

"So," she shiftily looked about the room, "remember that time I kinda sorta blew the roof of the workshop off?"

"The one you received a demerit from me and a demotion from the admiralty for, and the JMSDF decided the repairs would be docked from your pay until it was completely fixed?"

"Yeah." She pressed her fingers together. "I sorta used that sentence to try and brace the facility against further accidents."

"That explains why it took so long," Goto groaned.

"How come I don't remember this?" Akashi demanded.

"You and Yūbari were on leave. Sasebo was hosting its annual curry cooking competition and you two made a bet with Hiei to see who could make the safest-but-most-hazardous-looking meal possible."

"Might I ask what exactly what _caused_ the accident?"

"I got into an argument with SoDak and Phoenix over the nature of the PEPCON disaster on Skype..."

"I think I know where this is going," the repair ship covered her face in disbelief.

"…so I tried recreating it in miniature."

"Well, you're alive, so that accident has to count for _something_ ," Goto swallowed.

"It also helped that the bomb didn't fall straight into the room Nyan and I were in," Tōgō added, trying and failing to take a drink. "The bomb actually fell into my office a few rooms away, so the blast pressure was low enough that I didn't, you know," she spread her arms wide. "Actually, I kind of regret the fact I didn't take those Mogami refit plans with me. Now I have to reimagine them all," she rued. "Anyway, what was your first question?"

"Why you were there in the first place instead of helping with the anti-aircraft crews?"

The lieutenant's face transformed from a carefree expression to one of extreme concern. "Did Yūbari find them?"

"You mean the crates? Yes, but," Akashi's fairies produced a bunch of useless, incomplete-looking machinery, "what's the point of these?"

"Do you remember when the Kidō Butai felt bad about their fuel costs so they tried going green with the oil and failing? Yūbari and I were playing around one day with a way to synthesize and refine organic matter such as spoiled food into fuel reserves. With the help of Hayasui, our resident chemistry expert and oiler, you're looking at the results." That got their attention.

"Do they work?" Goto demanded.

"Eh…somewhat. They definitely can't provide for the JMSDF fleet, but if you give the devices something to work with they could probably provide for a kanmusu cruiser or two a day, maybe even a battleship if you're lucky. There are also some that the fairies can use to manufacture ammunition for their guns and the like, but like I said, they're more for emergency use than something to rely upon."

"A gallant effort, but a wasted one," the admiral shook his head. "The Diet brokered an agreement with the PRC and the United States for fuel supplies and other resources. They'll be trickling in slowly over the next few months until we're back on track."

"But they'll be useful in the present moment!" Akashi insisted. "With this we won't have to wait for supplies to come in order to resume medium-ranged operations. The abyssals won't expect it!"

"I suppose, but I imagine that these are the only surviving examples."

"Indeed, and it was too long ago for Yūbari and I to remember the exact details to make them," Tōgō added in disappointment. "How badly did they get us, admiral?"

"City only received a scratch. Toshiba and a few others aren't happy that their headquarters were damaged, but only Chiyoda was really affected. Even then, the recreational areas in the ward were completely untouched."

"I didn't realize abyssals were otakus," the lieutenant mused.

"Maybe I should ask the carriers to drop some of Akigumo's doujins the next time they sortie," Goto chortled. "Unfortunately, the same can't be said about our supplies. All of our naval bases are suffering from major supply shortages. The abyssals apparently made a nation-wide effort to wipe out our stockpiles while the capital was under attack. As a result, the JMSDF has ordered all non-essential vessels to return to port until the convoys start rolling in."

"A shame…"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Yes, food prices have gone up and a lot of Kantō restaurants and food chains aren't too happy about having to ration out their supplies considering the kanmusu are consuming most of it, but the death toll was low. Plus, they didn't get you, Tōgō. You wouldn't believe me how much morale dropped on base when word got around that you were MIA."

"I guess I'm glad I'm important enough to be missed by people," she laughed nervously. "I mean all I do is work on and tweak the blueprints for kanmusu-"

"Which all of us adore even if we don't come out just quite how we were expecting. That even includes Fubuki in spite of how disappointed she may have seemed to you when she got her second refit."

"-and just do normal human-y stuff."

"Or in other words being a twenty-something year old kid."

"That's right! I'm not that old!"

"…everyone knows your maturity trails far behind your intellect, lieutenant. Even Nagato knows how childish you can get, and that's saying something."

"Okay okay, I get it. If it makes you happy, I won't send Iku fun facts about how nimble roaches can be anymore whenever she gets on your nerves. Now can we please address who on earth _she_ is," pointing at the quiet officer curiously sniffing her food.

"Oh," Goto smiled, "she's a newcomer on base."

"She's not my replacement, is she?" Tōgō demanded, giving the woman a suspicious look. "I am actually offended. I didn't realize that the JMSDF looked for replacements that fast."

"Of course not. She graduated earlier this year."

"Admiral, I'm not that dense. Cadets don't graduate until later this year."

"Okay, fine, you got me, Lieutenant. She's Mikasa."

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"He's being serious you know," Akashi giggled.

"It takes more than two people to pull my leg, you know."

"They're being serious," Mikasa replied, giving the lieutenant an amused look. "You are quite entertaining company."

Tōgō froze in horror as if she had been petrified by a basilisk.

"Here it comes…"

Immediately the lieutenant contorted herself into a position that looked like the cross between stretching her toes and attempting to kneel on the bed.

"IamsosorrygodsamaforgivemeforimpudenceIdidn'trealizeitwasyouIswearIamnotthisignorantpleasepleaseplease."

"It's perfectly okay," Mikasa grinned. "You sound like what I imagine Admiral was like when he was younger. Both of you can be quite hot-headed."

"Admiraaalllll," Tōgō wailed, "why didn't you tell me she was coming! I could have made the bed! I could have cleaned the room! I could have offered her my breakfast instead of shoveling it into my mouth to look innocent!"

"Because your reaction is gold," Akashi smirked.

"And because I thought you would make great company for her and help get her orientated to the modern world," the admiral added.

"Is she a kanmusu?"

"We're still figuring that out, but regardless I was hoping if you would be willing to help modernize her equip-" Goto halted as he noticed a red glint in Tōgō's eyes.

"Are you about to say… _modernize_ her equipment?"

"Yes-"

"Ohohohoho this is going to be so goooddd…" the lieutenant eagerly rubbed her hands together.

"Tōgō, I want you to be aware-"

"We could give her thirty-five knot speed. Make the Iowas have something to think about. Oh, and give her larger caliber guns. Make those abyssals scream in terror at the firepower of her secondary batteries…"

"Tōgō…"

"No, imagine dual purpose mounts. Have a free portable Akizuki on the side. Maybe even add in rocket launcher mounts…"

"Tōgō…"

"And her torpedoes…yes, her torpedoes. Those are pretty ancient. Imagine Type 93 Oxygen torpedoes…or even if we could get those experimental F3's to avoid breaking surface…"

"Lieutenant Tōgō Jukeini!"

"Yes, admiral?"

"Might I remind you that the navy is facing a resource shortage? While I understand modernizing your ancestor's battleship is a dream come true, I want you to be aware that it must be practical, not fanciful wishes."

"So be it," she sighed reluctantly, "we'll go with something more vanilla then. We'll turn her into a pocket battleship."

"A pocket battleship?" Mikasa inquired.

"The best translation of _panzerschiff_ that I can give you. Basically given your dimensions we'll make you fast enough to outrun bigger battleships like Nagato while making you deadly enough to outgun anything that can keep pace with you."

"It'll be a pretty interesting upgrade too," Goto added. "There'll be nothing quite like you in the JMSDF once the modernizations are finished, but you'll be handily of use in a role where we need something bigger than a cruiser but something smaller than say Kongō for the job. But how do you plan to do that, Tōgō?"

"We'll swap out her 12"/45's for 12"/50's. There were some spares from when Alaska was at Kure a couple of months back. Hopefully they'll still be there." She paused as she noticed Akashi frantically scribbling her observations down on a napkin.

"These are all still proposals you know. They might not actually work out for the best."

"I'm making her write these down so that you have guidelines to follow, Tōgō," Goto cut in.

"Oh. Well, next we swap out her engines, boilers, and shafts. Eighteen knots is painfully slow if she wants to be in anything more than a supporting role."

"I don't even have boilers," Mikasa sighed. "They got taken out when I was made into a memorial ship."

"That's even better then. Stirling boilers should do the trick, if we can find a way to either install them inside her metal self or somehow downsize them to fit inside of her humanoid body."

"Stirling boilers?" Akashi asked confusedly. "Why use coal firing? They'll be pretty dangerous to use and they aren't as efficient as fuel ones."

"No, that's brilliant, Akashi. Japan doesn't have a lot of natural oil reserves so we usually have to rely upon imports to make the difference. On the other hand, we have plenty of coal, so Mikasa would be able to sortie with everyone else regularly and eat to her heart's content in spite of the shortage. Heck, she might even make some companies happy since they'll have a military customer for their production."

"Exactly," Tōgō nodded, "and once the fleet is back on its feet we can look into her using more efficient oil-burning ones likes General Electric steam boilers. She'd be able to even keep pace with the Iowas once that happens. Finally, for anti-air defense if we can find her some Bofors or at the very least some twenty-five millimeter machine gun mounts that should keep her covered. We'll have to swap them out for her Hotchkiss guns though."

"But I like those guns," Mikasa protested. "And besides, they did just fine against those bombers in the park."

"No offense, but that's probably because the abyssals were being a bunch of idiots. If they had their thinking caps on, they'll drop from several hundred meters if not kilometers _above_ you. No way that your current armament can aim their guns that high. You've seen pictures of our attack on Pearl Harbor by now, right?"

The pre-dreadnought nodded.

"Or our attack on HMS Prince of Wales and HMS Repulse?"

"I think so."

"Or the fact that a German battleship was neutralized by an aerial torpedo to the rudder?"

"...I guess?"

"I haven't even gotten started about Operation Ten-Go...poor Admiral Itō...having to face off against eleven aircraft carriers..."

The lieutenant smirked as her references had the desired effect: the confident and slightly stubborn battleship had been reduced to a profusely sweating and nervous mess.

"That's what airplanes will be like when they want to sink you. You _need_ the anti-air."

"But I don't want to waste resources that-"

"No but's. Out of all of the ship girls _you_ will need them most, Mikasa. Helping out Japan and not receiving a modernization are mutually exclusive."

"Hopefully they'll work," Mikasa mused, her face souring slightly. "I still can't help but feel a bit defenseless without the Hotchkiss guns."

"Trust me you'll be just _fine_. Updating your rangefinders and fire control systems to take advantage of surface radar should also help immensely. There are plenty of those lying about abyssal attack or not, though you'll probably need to take a trip to the States for the latest modifications."

"...the States? Is no one else constantly developing this...radar weaponry?"

"Well, the United Kingdom is-"

The battleship immediately sent Admiral Goto a "pleasepleasepleaseprettypleasecanIgohometotealand" look which the commander politely ignored.

"but the USN girls have made it their mantra that radar is the 'master race' so they've been releasing three manuals or tweaks for the instrument whenever the RN considers one."

"It'd be difficult to send you to the UK anyway," the admiral added. "the Atlantic is a no man's land filled with submarines, and last I heard the battle for the Mediterranean has moved southward past the Suez; the abyssals have gotten more desperate over there. Unless you want to take a railroad trip through Russia."

Mikasa's protests vaporized in a flash and were replaced by a furious scowl.

"Fine..."

"Don't worry, you'll see England some time, just not right now for radar. As for your voyage to America, we can talk more about that later whenever it gets to the point that you need to."

"Sounds good to me, lieutenant," Goto nodded as he checked his watch. "I think Akashi and I will leave you two here to keep each other company. As soon as you get discharged from the hospital we'll get started on Mikasa."

"That's fine with me!"

"Is there anything else you need from me, Admiral Goto?" the battleship called out.

"Not for today. Just enjoy yourselves you two, and try and keep Tōgō sane. I have a feeling she's going to get a lot of visitors today. Glad to see that you're okay, Tōgō!"

"Same to you, Admiral and Akashi!"

 _Swish. Click._

"Ah…" Tōgō sighed as she slumped back to the bed in relief.

Mikasa looked at her pensively.

"You appeared in one of my dreams, you know. You were offering me Nikujaga. It was a pretty good-smelling stew, too."

"So it did get through!" Tōgō clapped her hands together in relief. "I thought you just took it and didn't do anything."

"Wait, that wasn't a dream?" she asked incredulously.

"I was trying to summon you. I even got Goto's permission to dash in coal powder to make it more appetizing and everything."

"Summon me?"

"If you had approached me in your dream, you would have come out at here at Yokosuka as a kanmusu."

"You're making me regret not coming that time," Mikasa sighed, remembering that at present she was _not_ in fact a kanmusu. "If only you had provided some tea and scones it would have been an undeniable deal."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever have time to summon the other five of you," Tōgō remarked as she scribbled a note down on a piece of scratch paper beside her bed. "We could try it again sometime to see if the others answer the call," catching the pre-dreadnought's eager eye, "but it'll have to be once we have the time and resources."

"I'm okay with that," she hummed happily. "Yashima's and Shikishima's reactions in particular to the present would be priceless."

"I can imagine, though I can't help but wonder, what if they're already back, but as abyssals," the lieutenant added softly.

"About that…what exactly are abyssals?"

"Goto and Akashi have showed you around and still haven't explained what abyssals are to you?" She sighed and flipped through her phone for pictures.

"This is an abyssal." Tōgō showed her a picture of a white-haired, red-eyed woman in a low-cut black dress smirking into the camera. "This is a classified photograph, but it's a good example of what we're fighting against. The easiest way to explain them is that they are rogue kanmusu. They bear grudges against humanity for whatever reason and so their objective is to see it destroyed. We don't know for sure, but abyssals might also be able to convince other uncommitted spirits like your former self to join them like we've been trying through summoning."

"Ah…"

She watched as Mikasa studied the photo carefully.

"What a disrespectable outfit," the battleship muttered in disgust. "Her bust is far too prominent. And her thighs! They're so pale and exposed. And is that…I don't need to see _that_."

"Mikasa, don't make me die from laughter! It hurts to breathe," Tōgō wheezed.

"Sorry…what's so funny about my statement? It's _true_ ," she scowled. "If I ever had to wear one of those _things_ ," the battleship shuddered.

"Usually most ship girls' reactions are to kill them on sight," Tōgō explained.

"Good heavens, I can see why! A warship dressed like that is begging for my twelve-inch shells to put her out of her aesthetic misery!"

"I need to stop asking questions before they need to put on my headstone 'Here lies Tōgō: she died from being unable to take a battleship's joke.'

The lieutenant continued to quietly quiver in her bed as her newfound friend began to study her uneaten breakfast.

 _Sniff. Sniff._

"This is tea, isn't it?" Mikasa asked innocently as she smelled Tōgō's drink.

"Eh, it's green tea," she replied sheepishly. "I tried black tea and I hated it. Sorry, Mikasa."

"It's a very different taste," the battleship nodded in understanding, "though it's for that exact reason I can't stand matcha."

"Really? I'm surprised."

"It was a cause of disagreement between me and Hōshō back in the day. I guess I'm not really a Yamato nadeshiko."

"Don't worry about that! You'd be hard-pressed to even find humans that remotely resembled that stereotype. I mean even Hōshō runs a restaurant now, and I don't think that can be considered traditional."

"Does she now? I'd be quite interested in what she's serving, even though when I knew her that wasn't something she was known for."

"If you're ever in Sasebo some time, go for it. Her izakaya is a must-see."

"…Sasebo hasn't changed much, hasn't it?"

"You mean as a place where every human and kanmusu wants to be stationed at because it's paradise but can't if they're considered instrumental for an impending operation? Then, yeah it sure hasn't."

There was a brief pause as Mikasa rolled about the room before coming to a halt as she found some identification papers on Tōgō's nightstand.

"Tōgō Jukeini…that's a pretty unusual first name. I don't think I've ever met anyone with that name before."

"She was Imagawa Yoshimoto's mother and an actual daimyo warlord for a time. My dad thought it was an auspicious name for his daughter and my mother loved it."

"You must be close to your parents then."

"Not really; I haven't seen them much since going to the academy. It's not that we aren't on speaking terms. I guess we simply recognized that we have very different paths to follow and avoided obstructing each other. Neither of them was in the military, you see. My mother's an entomologist; she's the reason why I know so much about beetles. My father on the other hand was a historian who worked for the university in Kagoshima. He approved of my interest in the navy, but was a bit alarmed that I took interest in it to the point of joining it. I think he was secretly hoping I would become a pop singer," she chuckled.

"That would be an interesting sight to see," Mikasa grinned. "Are you any good? At singing, that is."

"Naka thinks so, though she says my English comes out when I do."

"English?" she studied the lieutenant carefully. "Come to think of it, your cheekbones are a bit more prominent than in most Japanese…"

"I'm an eighth English, an eighth Singaporean, and three-quarters Japanese. The English and Singaporean come from my mother's side; my grandfather settled in Singapore after his service in the IJA."

"So you're more English than I am."

"Not really. I mean the first thing my bum touched was non-English soil, unlike yours."

"How crude of you."

"Not many other polite ways of referring to one's behind."

 _Knock. Knock. Swish._ A nurse popped her head in.

"Tōgō-san, there's a line of people wanting to see you. Do you mind if they stop by?"

"So it has begun," the lieutenant groaned. "Let them in."


	14. Dreams and Nightmares: Hospitality

**A/N:** There will be action coming soon, but I feel that a little breathing room is needed in-between action for character development first-the JMSDF and the Kanmusu are still recovering/resting up from their battle a few days prior, so it wouldn't make sense to cut into more action. Plus, Mikasa really, really needs to catch up on the modern world (and get over something). I'll try and increase my posting rate so that if these kinds of scenes aren't of interest to you then it won't seem like I'm dragging it out (I have no plans to do so, I want this plot bunny to hop somewhere!).

* * *

Little extra snippets that might seem fluffy or break the flow of the chapter/fragment but are still relevant to the plot will be designated with either a decimal or a letter.

 _Canon. Contains some additional scenes that I didn't want to flesh out into an entire chapter but add a bit more details/fluff on the characters._

"Hey Bob," a bunch of officers waved as they stuck their heads in the room. "We missed your silly face."

"As did I," Tōgō waved back.

"Any chance you can eat with us soon? How's that arm of yours?"

The lieutenant made a loud sniffle. "It's just a flesh wound!" she trumpeted as her colleagues left the room in laughter.

"Bob?" Mikasa asked curiously.

"A reference to my bob cut," she replied, pointing at her hair, "plus the fact they think I'm a bokukko."

"You do use boku a lot when referring to yourself," the battleship raised her eyebrow.

* * *

"Hey boss," Katsuragi called out as she hopped into the room. "It looks like you're okay."

"So I am. I heard you did magnificently during the defense of Tokyo."

"Eh, just the usual. Launched some planes, received some planes. Tried to kick some butt. Zuikaku-senpai would have been disappointed if she saw me."

"That's not what I've read," pulling up a report that the lieutenant had somehow gotten ahold of on her phone. "Kaga said that 'Katsuragi proved herself in that battle. Even the Kidō Butai would be hard pressed to defend the city with such low aircraft numbers. Yes, the First CarDiv would have performed better and spotted the offending abyssals had we been there, but she is more than qualified to sortie, especially given her efficiency in the present crisis.'"

"That's just that _battleship_ 's opinion," the Unryū carrier reddened. "I'm…I'm not that…I'll tell her I said thanks!" she replied quickly.

"How did the Kikka prototypes hold up?"

"Oh! They were wonderful, Lieutenant. I think my pilots had forty confirmed kills in them."

"Mmm. How agile were they?"

"They could keep up with the abyssal Zeroes pretty well."

"Sounds like the Shidens are still better," Tōgō sighed. "I guess it's because the fairies and I have more data to work off of with a plane that actual saw surface in comparison to a jet that only saw a few trial runs before being retired."

"But Tōgō! They're so fast!"

"Doesn't mean they necessarily have the fuel economy. Might put a strain on your AV gas supply in a prolonged battle."

"Lieutenant, can I keep these prototypes, please, please, pretty please?"

"A tsundere begging. I've seen it all."

"H-h-hey, I'm not a tsundere!"

"Considering how much you hated us personnel as 'weak-kneed surrendering bastards' when you first arrived I'd say so, but I hear you out. You can try them out for a little longer, but if they have issues I'm going to have to ask you to switch to Shiden or your Model 52's again."

"Thanks Tōgō-san! Get your butt well soon!" The carrier shouted as she danced back out.

"Is it popular in the present age to make references to one's rear?" The battleship remarked as she took an experimental sip of her green tea.

"Oi, you're in Lancashire mode again!"

"But isn't our chitchat so _marvelous_?"

* * *

"Tōgō-sama!"

"Oh hey, Iyo!" she gagged a little as her fellow officer nearly punched the wind out of her with his hug.

"Sorry," he bowed his head apologetically. "I was just worried…"

"No, no, I understand. I was being a bit reckless as always. Anyways, Goto still hasn't sent me an exact account of what happened after I was…incapacitated. Care to fill me in?"

"Oh. Of course!" His eyes widened before pulling out a sheet of paper.

"So this is Tokyo Bay right? And this, Yokosuka? Well, the abyssals seemed to try a series of rotating attacks to tire us out…"

"Mhm." She felt slightly alarmed as Mikasa raised an amused eyebrow, then looked from Iyo to her and back.

"…they tried sending Mosquitoes against us. They were so fast!"

"Well, they were considered among the best bombers in the war even though they were made from wood."

"I didn't know that. You're such an expert Tōgō!"

That knowing grin on the battleship's face was _totally_ not ominous _._

"Well," Tōgō shrugged, "you kind of get the hang of it after a while. Hōshō, Langley, and Argus also send out emails every now and then spouting aviation facts if you want to read them.

"I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, we tried using your prototypes."

"Did you catch anything with them?"

"…not really, but it could because I have bad aim. I wasn't sure which sight to look through!"

As stealthily as she could, Mikasa carefully took one of Iyo's sheets of paper and a pen and began drawing.

 _Maybe she was just overreacting…it looked like the spirit was simply bored and wanted to doodle to pass the time._

"It depends upon which mechanism you're using. It's a Hwacha-Ribault hybrid so it's a super-organ-gun-rocket-launcher-thingy. Sounds like it wasn't nearly as effective as we hoped, however."

"I disagree. They were clearly well made…" Iyo continued to talk, but Tōgō zoned out on Mikasa's handiwork, which was shielded from close observation behind the battleship's knees. Whatever it was, it required studying the two lieutenants' faces carefully.

Extremely carefully.

"…and then we put out the fuel fire. Man, I think we lost thousands of gallons of oil in that moment…"

But why did it require Mikasa to study Iyo's face, especially his lips?

"…and then Admiral Goto and Junichi left for the park to find Mikasa," at which Iyo gave Mikasa a salute. The aspiring artist appeared to give him no notice, for she was so deeply engrossed with her sketch that she didn't even notice her own tongue sticking out.

"Well, I will you leave you two to recover now," Iyo smiled and waved as he collected his things. "Get well soon, Tōgō!"

"I will!" she shouted back as he departed.

There was the sound of furious scratching as Mikasa finished up her masterpiece. Whatever it was, it involved the repetitive drawing of reciprocal c's…

Wait…

 _Was she drawing hearts? Between her and Iyo?_

 _CLUMP._

"What are you drawing?" she asked sweetly as her good hand transformed into a death-like grip with the paper.

"Oh, you know," Mikasa replied innocently as she watched a menacing dark aura surround the bedridden officer, "things."

"May I see?" Tōgō inquired in a tone that hinted in unmistakable terms that there was no "may" in the matter.

"On second thought," she nimbly swiped the paper from beneath the officer before opening her own mouth, "I'm hungry."

"Mikasa~, don't lie to me~! I know you don't even have working boilers so you can't be hungry~!"

The battleship paid her warning little heed and promptly swallowed the piece of paper.

"What drawing were we talking about again?"

"You impudent rascal," the lieutenant scowled.

* * *

 _Knock. Knock.  
_  
"Are you two alright? Admiral Goto wanted an update while the girls took a break from the clean-up."

"Yes. Do you want anything to eat or drink, Nagato?" The lieutenant waved her hand over a towering mass of chips, chocolate, and other snacks that visitors had offered as presents.

"I'm fine. It would be impolite to take someone else's gift and eat anyway," the dreadnought returned as she reluctantly looked away from a large bag of Karl cheese puffs she had been eyeing.

Which suddenly reappeared like a massive flag before her face.

"Are you _sure_ ," Jukeini pressed, swinging it back and forth in a teasing manner.

" _Dt,_ " Nagato gagged, reddening at being caught. Her eyebrows shook uncontrollably as she trembled indecisively.

"...Fine."

"Don't worry, if you finish the whole thing there's plenty more where that came from. It must be a lot of work clearing up all of that rubble."

"Quite right. It doesn't help either that Akebono has been quite down the past few days, either. That destroyer doesn't think we can see but I can tell. I think she's worried about the incident."

"What incident?"

"Shortly before the abyssals withdrew, Yamashiro was hit by an unlucky aerial strike. Akebono was able to take her ashore and save her, but it seems that she's slowly convincing herself that this was all her fault. She keeps muttering about being reassigned, even after we all expressed confidence in her skills. Speaking of the grouchy destroyer, I should probably report back to Goto and the others. Mikasa. Lieutenant."

"Nagato, wait," the pre-dreadnought called out.

"Hm?"

"I want to say sorry for earlier...about my comment concerning you and children."

"Oh, that? I've already forgotten about it. It's a running gag around here still, so I'm used to such jokes."

"Normally I would agree, as I imagine it's the same with Kongō 'settling down,' but there's a major difference between that," Mikasa leaned over to face the towering red-eyed warship, "and a jab at the reason you still have Mutsu. When the Treaty's early provisions were announced you were so afraid back then, so scared that you would never get to meet your sister. But then the delegates agreed to save her, because schoolchildren fundraised her construction. I never had any true sisters, so I can only imagine how relieved you were at her surviving the ordeal. And what better way to show your gratitude then to express it towards her saviors?"

"Mikasa," Nagato tugged at her collar nervously, "that isn't quite the _only_ reason why they continue to make such jokes. You'll...uh, find about them in due time," making a mental note to destroy any and all incriminating evidence in her sister's notebook ( _especially_ that video of her cuddling with that chipmunk-she hadn't forgotten about that whole little escapade!), "but I appreciate the gesture all the same."

It was interesting, the super-dreadnought mused as she walked back to Goto's office, how differently Mikasa and Lieutenant Tōgō had absorbed the outcome of the recent engagement. The JMSDF officer, who barely dodged death thanks to some childish and costly antic months prior, was completely cheerful and carefree.

As for the pre-dreadnought...there was something about that battleship that worried her. One moment she had been cracking jokes at Nagato's expense; the next moment, however so briefly, she was regretful and sorrowful. It was not something she was used to. Even in the good old days, Mikasa was consistently impassive when it came to expressing her inner thoughts. Everyone knew her as that spritely old dragon who clucked over the Kongō sisters as if they were her daughters, but was more than capable of cowing opponents into submission with her wits and battle experience.

The mood swings, however, were new.  
 _  
"I never had any true sisters..."  
_  
Could that possibly be it? Did she miss her old friends?

Perhaps Kongō would be right for the job...

* * *

"Is that thunder I hear?" Mikasa peeked out the window as a low rumble echoed throughout the building.

Tōgō's face paled. "Hey, Mikasa…"

The rumbling grew louder and nearer…

"…can you forgive me for calling you an impudent rascal?"

"You mean what happened earlier? I thought you knew that I knew that was completely in jest! But why are you so-"

 _CRACK._

"PRESENT TIME, DESS!" a red and white whirlwind giggled as it threatened to uproot the bed.

"Well, some things haven't changed," the pre-dreadnought smirked as the lieutenant frantically sent her "please have mercy and pull this thing away from me" looks from her smothered position.

"Oh Tōgō-san I am SO GLAD to see you!" Kongō cooed as she affectionately patted and kissed the writhing patient on the head.

"Ahem." Mikasa cleared her throat.

As if repelled by dark magic, the fast battleship flew off the bed.

"Oh! Mikasa-san!" she waved in greeting. "Would you two be up for some tea? Don't worry, I brought some sweet tea for you, Tōgō-san!"

"And how exactly are you going to-nevermind," Jukeini sighed, massaging her forehead as the tea table materialized from who-knew-where.

"Eat up, dess!"

For the first time that entire afternoon, peace reigned in the observation ward of Yokosuka's naval hospital.

"So how has your afternoon gone?"

"Pretty good, I suppose."

"Is Mikasa-san enjoying your company?" Tōgō looked on smugly as it was Mikasa's turn to frown at Kongō's wiggling eyebrows.

"She's pleasant," the pre-dreadnought commented smoothly. "What about your day?"

"Excellent! We have saunas on base again!"

"You mean the docks have been cleared out for you guys to bath in again?"

"Yep! Though, they aren't exactly private at the moment…"

The lieutenant looked to her left and right. "Good thing _the crew_ aren't here."

"If they were," Kongō grinned evilly and smacked her fists into her palms, "they would get my burning love for such voyeurism."

"Ahem."

"Oh! Sorry for leaving you out of the loop again, Mikasa-san…"

"It's alright. What's in that bag you're carrying? Another surprise rectangular device?"

"Oh! Right! Tōgō-san, this came in the mail earlier today. The Yamato sisters send their compliments!"

"A present? For me?" Jukeini nearly leapt off the bed as she snatched it from Kongō's fingertips. "Tell-them-I-said-thank-you!"

"What's inside?" the officer asked as she furiously shook the wrapped box.

"I don't know, dess! It's a surprise!"

"Sounds like a puzzle," Mikasa commented.

"Well, open it, Tōgō-san!"

"Well, I won't try and satiate my inner child too much. I'll just open this real slow-" Her eyes widened and Kongō turned beet red as they read the carton's side label.

"Don't look, Tōgō-san!" the energetic teaboat wailed as she covered her eyes.

"I'm impressed," the lieutenant remarked, her hands shaking from restraining her excitement at the package's contents. "So is the other-yep, knew it!"

"What is it?" Mikasa craned her neck as she tried to see what they were gawking over.

"Don't look, dess!"

"Nothing interesting," Tōgō answered shiftily, carefully refolding the wrapping. "I'll tell you later."

"Is it something unsuitable for public company?"

"YES!"

"No."

"I don't know who to trust."

"Me, Mikasa-san! Tōgō got a vulgar present!"

"I swear it's not. It's just…research toys I guess if that makes sense."

"Sure…"

* * *

 **A/N:** The little exchange between Mikasa and Nagato is true; Nagato only had a sister via the treaty because the other powers relented in their demand to scrap Mutsu as Japanese schoolchildren had paid for her construction (it was completely altruistic of course, as it also helped the other nations keep some big guns that led to the "Big 7"). I also will make it clear now as I don't think it was made clear in the text that Nagato didn't resolve Mikasa's brooding; it's a long healing process whose roots will be explained in later flashbacks.


	15. Dreams and Nightmares: High Spirits

**A/N:** Perhaps I should have made this more clear, but the last chapter was actually a continuation of the "Great Spirits" fragment and not a stand-alone chapter. Sorry about that! Have an actual chapter; note that this one **is three fragments/FF chapters long**. I divided it into 3 parts as the original combined chapter was almost 9k words in length.

We are almost up-to-date with the original thread!

* * *

"Any luck with Texas's email?"

"You mean if I can decipher anything besides the message 'I'm on extended leave right now because I'm too old for things like this' repeated endlessly? No."

"I don't get it," Akashi sighed, scratching her head. "We've tried every single suggestion offered by any and all American-museum-ships-turned-ship-girls on how they made the jump from spiritual avatar to kanmusu, and nothing's worked."

"To be fair, we didn't take the Iowa sisters' recommendation seriously," Tōgō replied absentmindedly as she focused on reading the morning newspaper.

"Not like we could even get clearance for _that_ even if we wanted to," the repair ship snorted. "Aside from that proposal, we've exhausted all of our other options. First we tried a band—"

 _"_ _I'm touched," Mikasa smiled, wiping a joyous tear away as the last note faded into nothingness. "That song brings back so many memories…"_

 _Her musings were rudely interrupted by the sound of her hull rumbling in agreement, the twelve-inch guns still swaying about to the beat._

"Then we tried giving her something revolting to see if that triggered a transformation—"

 _"_ _What is THIS?" she gagged, desperately trying to regurgitate her drink. "It BURNS!"_

 _"_ _Tea," Yūbari returned with a straight face. "An experimental flavor that a company wanted to market if it was good."_

 _"_ _This is the completely opposite of good! It, it tastes like—" her eyes narrowed. "This is sbiten mixed with vodka, isn't it?"_

 _"_ _H-how could you tell?" Akashi gulped as the light completely vanished from the Mikasa's eyes, her irises resembling cosmic black holes._

 _"_ _You have ten seconds to explain why you gave me Tsarist poison before I show you why I'm classified as a battleship."_

 _"_ _Uh…"_

 _"_ _Ten."_

 _"_ _Nine."_

 _"_ _Eight."_

 _"_ _Yūbari, RUN!"_

"We even tried insulting her, but they did no good since we couldn't truly get mad at her."

 _"_ _Some advice, my dear cruiser," she commented as she stirred her tea leaves about. "Don't enter acting. You can't capture the mood very well."_

"Well, I have another idea," the lieutenant offered, stealthily crawling out from her new bed in search of additional reading material. "But," she jerked her head to the other side of the room, "you'll need to wake up Mikasa first."

As Tōgō had recovered to the point the medical staff needed not to feverishly worry over her condition, both the hospital and Goto agreed to relocate her into Mikasa's room. Aside from the fact that this granted the officer more opportunities to avoid her bedridden orders, everyone found this a very satisfactory arrangement. For the past few days, any visitor to the kanmusu natal ward of Yokosuka Naval Hospital was treated to the sight of friendly banter between human and warship.

Except…

"Where _is_ Mikasa?" Akashi asked worriedly.

"She's not in the pool?"

"No, I can't see her from here. Wait, is that –"

"MIKASA!" Both of them frantically ran over at the sight of a black mass beneath the pool's surface.

"Hm?" hummed the pre-dreadnought, resurfacing ever so slightly so that her grey eyes stared inquisitively back at them.

"You silly battleship, what are you doing? You gave us a scare just now!"

"Oh," her face colored slightly as she bobbed back and forth, blowing bubbles through her nose. "I was reading about submarines last night on your phone."

"What on earth were you reading about that it crossed your mind that it would be a good idea to try drowning yourself?"

 _Clank. Clank._

 _"_ _Huh. So these are battleship torpedoes," Kaimon mused, carefully studying the weapons lying in wait within Shikishima's torpedo tubes. The fleet had just returned from minor training exercises around Sasebo, and so the spirits decided to host a small get-together on the battleship's deck to unwind._

 _"_ _Mhm! They're eighteen inches!"_

 _"…_ _inches?"_

 _"_ _About 45.7 centimeters, give or take," Yashima answered, frowning at the aging corvette. "They're pretty useful."_

 _"_ _I wasn't about to suggest that they weren't."_

 _"_ _Your tone of voice suggested otherwise."_

 _"_ _Yashima," Kaimon rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I can critique technology without commenting on its European ancestry. I actually like these things."_

 _"…_ _you do?"_

 _"_ _Of course. Look how long and hard they are," the corvette stated, stroking the shaft. At this Fuji, Yashima, and Asahi turned scarlet._

 _"…_ _They look nimble and fast. I bet they're good at penetrating armor, too…" Even Mikasa was starting to feel a little warm at Kaimon's ramblings._

 _"…_ _just like—"_

 _"_ _Kaimon, stop. Think of 'Shiki," Hatsuse stepped in at last, covering over her sister's ears._

 _"_ _Yeah, don't make everything inappropriate," Fuji added scoldingly._

 _"_ _What do you mean, 'make everything inappropriate?' Don't these look like giant fire arrows? You know, the things samurai shot from hiya-zutsu?"_

 _"…"_

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _You bloody corvette, we thought you were about to say something else…"_

"I've always wondered what it would like to be submerged," she answered at last. "It must be interesting, using torpedoes as your primary armament."

Tōgō and Akashi looked at each other.

"Well, neither of us would know about that lifestyle; you'd need to ask the submarine girls their take on that."

"I will say that it has not exactly made their minds the most sanitary of havens," Akashi warned.

"Of course they would be. Kaimon would perfectly at home with them," Mikasa muttered.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Anyway, you called for me?"

"Ah yes. Remember how we've been trying to see if you can turn into a kanmusu for the past few days?"

"Yeah…don't remind me…"

"This was just a hunch, but do you think it's possible to transform with a clear intention?"

"…you mean like I have been with every other attempt?"

"Hey, it wouldn't hurt to try again. Who knows, maybe the tenth time's the charm."

"But what exactly should I focus on? Akashi, any advice?"

"I'm afraid you're on your own, Mikasa. I was never in your situation…maybe repeat whatever you did a few days ago?"

* * *

 _"_ _Incoming dispatch. It's from Shinano Maru!"_

 _"_ _What does it say, Mikasa?"_

 _"_ _Enemy is in Square 203."_

 _"_ _203?!"_

 _"_ _They must have spotted the hospital ship," Captain Hikojirō smiled in delight. "There's no other explanation for how they spotted the Russian fleet at this time of day."_

 _"_ _Unfortunately, if they did, the enemy knows we know now too," Tōgō's aide, Akiyama Saneyuki, warned. "Shinano Maru used her wireless telegraph to inform of us of their movements. If the Russians intercepted her transmission before it reached us…"_

 _"_ _We can't lose any time," the admiral frowned. "Mikasa, tell the others we need to make steam as quickly as possible. Today the country's future will be decided."_

* * *

"I was thinking about Then…"

"What is Then?" Tōgō asked, sitting beside the pre-dreadnought in the pool.

"The war. Tsushima, in particular."

"Focus on that memory," Akashi urged. "It seems to be a defining connection for you."

* * *

 _"_ _Eat," the surgeon said softly, offering her a bowl of stew. It smelled wonderful._

 _Wait a moment, if that was the doctor, then—_

 _"_ _She's come to!" came a shout. Immediately a crowd of familiar faces, both officers and sailors, entered her vision._

 _"_ _Mikasa-san! We're glad to see you're okay!" one of the seamen grinned._

 _"_ _As are we," added the calm voice of Admiral Tōgō. "It was a very intense battle. You were hit twenty times before both sides withdrew."_

 _That got her attention._

 _"_ _Withdraw? Commander, did we win?" Mikasa demanded._

 _Her hospital room immediately fell silent._

 _"_ _I'm afraid that like our engagement at Port Arthur it was indecisive. We technically won, but the Russians still have their ships. Retvizan's charge forced us to disengage and regroup before we could pursue," Akiyama explained gently._

 _"_ _It didn't help either that you took a beating," Tōgō continued. "The others panicked when your guns started falling silent. I'm not sure you realize this, but you actually sustained so many hits that you blacked out."_

 _"_ _I see…"_

 _She looked dejectedly at her wounded sailors, some of whom had bandages completely covering their faces or stumps on their bodies._

 _"_ _We couldn't let our ship die y'know," one of them quipped, cheerfully patting what had once been his right arm. "All of us were willing to die if it meant you lived."_

 _"_ _The sailors stubbornly refused to eat until they pooled enough bites for you to have a meal," the surgeon explained apologetically at the sight of her horrified expression. "We aren't sure if you need sustenance to live, but we weren't willing to find out."_

 _"_ _How many people sacrificed their lives so that I could have something to eat," Mikasa asked quietly._

 _"_ _It doesn't matter," one of the sailors protested. She turned a cold gaze in his direction._

 _"_ _I want to know how many."_

 _"_ _You shouldn't worry about—"_

 _"_ _ **How**_ _many."_

 _"…_ _One hundred and twenty five. "_

 _"_ _One hundred and twenty five?"_

 _"_ _We sustained one hundred and twenty five casualties in the battle."_

 _"_ _I'm sorry."_

* * *

"I'm sorry," Akashi said quietly, watching as the battleship's face turn ash-white in concentration.

"No, I am," Mikasa sighed, opening her eyes. "I couldn't focus. I tried remembering the battle, but my mind immediately jumped to the Yellow Sea. I wonder if it's a sign…"

"I wouldn't take it as such," Tōgō retorted with a dismissing wave of her good hand. "It's probably a trial-and-error process."

"Isn't that what you just said moments earlier?"

"Yes, and I still stand by that."

"I'm starting to think that the chances of me becoming a kanmusu are as likely as a cruiser becoming an aircraft-carrying warship."

"Actually…you just gave me an idea!" The lieutenant darted back to her bed and began furiously drawing something, dropping the newspaper she was holding in the process.

"If we raised the deck to here, and placed the AV fuel tanks under the hangar near the bridge…hm...the powerplant..."

"She must be talking about the Mogami-class refits again," Akashi giggled. "I think that's as far as we can get with your situation for now…"

"I figured as much," the battleship exhaled in resignation. "If only there was an easy solution…"

Unfortunately, neither Tōgō nor the hachimaki-wearing repair ship was listening.

"Akashi, I'm starving. Would you mind picking me up some breakfast downstairs?"

"Of course! I might as well grab a bite to eat as well while I'm down there. Do you mind if I take a little while?"

"As long as you come back before next mass extinction event, I have no complaints with your plan."

 _It can't be helped,_ Mikasa thought to herself.

She decided to distract herself by reading the newspaper Jukeini had dropped in her mad rush to sketch her latest idea. The moment the pre-dreadnought picked up the paper she perfectly understood why Tōgō had discarded it.

It was mostly boring idle chitchat. There was a page of political cartoons that she didn't quite fully understand, followed by an article of the Prime Minister angrily pointing at the camera with the caption "HAS HIS POSITION BEEN DESTABILIZED BY THE RECENT ATTACK?" Opposite of the unattractive picture was an equally unflattering portrait of the standing admiral of Yokosuka Naval Base's American sector, cynically titled "America vows to offer 'aid'…again." Some animated television shows were also advertising their latest seasons, but given that she didn't even know what they were about she studied them no further.

As Mikasa cast the editorial aside, a smaller issue fluttered out from between the pages. Apparently it had stuck together with the larger sheets during her initial reading.

"-AL -MI - -DAY"

"Hm?" Her interest aroused, she carefully opened the miniature newspaper up.

FUNERAL FOR OFFICERS OF JAPANESE SHIP ŌNAMI HOSTED TODAY  
CEREMONY FOR SAILORS TO BE HELD TOMORROW AFTERNOON  
DEATH TOLL FROM THIS FROM WEEK'S ATTACK RISE TO 408

On the front page was a picture of a young woman sorrowfully standing over an open coffin, her children tearfully hugging a stillborn arm housed within its gloomy prison.

 _"_ _The widow of Ensign Doi Yoshimasa mourns her husband's loss. Doi, 32, was spoken of in only the highest terms by his superiors, having quickly accelerated through the ranks from petty officer for his determination and skill during service. Ensign Doi was among the one hundred confirmed casualties when the Ōnami was sunk in action on January 3rd, 2017. He is survived by Fumiko (34), Kotomi (6), and Itaru (8)…"_

She stared at the paper numbly. One hundred families were met with grief due to her hesitation. If only she had acted sooner…

 _"…_ _With the sinking of JS Ōnami and the near-destruction of JS Amagiri, the JMSDF's available manpower continues to dwindle. Since the beginning of the present conflict on the high seas, the Maritime Self-Defense Force has lost forty percent of its total vessels to hostile action, with an additional twenty-percent taken out of commission for extensive repairs that may take years._

 _The Ōnami, while not necessarily the most advanced of the JMSDF's destroyers, was a key part of Japan's arsenal. The Takanami-class was respected for its Anti-Submarine Warfare or "ASW" capabilities, and were attributed to several dozen confirmed abyssal submarine kills in the struggle for the Bering Strait. Combined with the loss of Takanami earlier last year during the defense of the Nansei Islands, the class is down to 66% of its original complement…"_

* * *

 _"_ _Good luck!"_

 _"_ _Stay safe!"_

 _"Do your best! Tire yourself out!"_

 _"_ _The country is counting on you!"_

 _"_ _Give those bastards hell!"_

 _"_ _Ten thousand years to the Emperor and his Navy!"_

 _"_ _Admiral," she began slowly as they looked down at the energetic crowd below them, some of them feverishly waving banners of the rising sun, "why are they cheering?"_

 _There were hundreds-no, thousands-of people lining the quay, watching the navy make preparations. Some even took to the boats in a desperate attempt to give sailors last-minute hugs and goods. Sasebo was a busy place, having been the site of many operations over the course of this bloody and gloomy year-long war._

 _And it would be the last port of call before the biggest conflict of them all._

 _"_ _Because they have hope," he answered softly. "The nation depends upon what happens next."_

 _At that moment a sallow mustachioed face appeared on the bridge._

 _"_ _How is your mother, Akiyama?" Tōgō queried._

 _"_ _She's getting worse," he replied shakily. "At this rate, I don't know if she can hang on much longer…my sister just sent me a telegram…she said that she vows to fight on long enough to see me again."_

 _"_ _That is assuming that we make it out of this alive. The situation grows as dark as the sea before us," Captain Hikojirō mused. "Somewhere far to the south the Russians are headed straight at us."_

 _"_ _Even worse, they know now," Akiyama added._

 _"_ _Know what?"_

 _"_ _That Yashima and Hatsuse are gone," Tōgō said quietly. "The government tried keeping it a secret, but you can only fool the enemy for so long…"_

 _The three officers winced at the battleship's gloomy expression._

 _"_ _They could have still been here had I been more careful," she said quietly._

 _"_ _No one could have foreseen the minefield," Tōgō replied grimly, "and it was not your decision to ask Shikishima, Hatsuse, and Yashima to join up with us. The guilt lies with both me and Admiral Nashiba."_

 _"_ _Regretting the past doesn't change the fact that we only have four first-rate battleships left," Hikojirō cut in, "or the fact that Russians rounded the Horn of Africa a few weeks ago."_

 _"_ _Or the fact they have eleven of them…" Akiyama murmured darkly._

 _"_ _Eleven?!" Mikasa shouted in disbelief._

 _"_ _Eleven. Including all four of the latest Borodino-class. They have Krupp armor just like you and entered service this past year."_

 _They watched as a young girl, undoubtedly a suitor of one of Mikasa's many sailors, tearfully kiss a seaman goodbye._

 _"_ _Admiral…what happens if we lose to the Russian fleet?"_

 _"_ _Then Japan will be dealt a devastating blow. The destruction of the combined fleet will leave the army at the mercy of the Russians in Korea. Troop ships can stream into the peninsula without hindrance. The government will be forced to sue for peace or face the tears of millions of fatherless and childless families. With our defeat, Japan will be forever known as the lackey of the West, not its equal. That is to say nothing of the dishonor of having to concede to the Russians. We cannot afford to lose."_

 _"_ _We won't."_

 _Hikojirō and Akiyama turned incredulously to the grey-eyed battleship._

 _"_ _Mikasa…how can you be so certain?"_

 _Images of Yashima and Kaimon debating over their cultural differences with Akatsuki and Shikishima mimicking their movements in the background entered her vision._

 _"_ _Ten years ago, Japan ordered the six of us to defend the nation against future threats. That was our purpose of our existence. In the three years I have served this nation I have done nothing to prove myself. You gave me an honor many ships can only dream of, and in return we have witnessed indecisive battle after indecisive battle. Now the country needs me more than ever. If I cannot protect you now, then I should be at the bottom of the ocean."_

 _"_ _Mikasa…don't be so hard on your—" Any further protests were drowned out by the appearance of Shikishima and Fuji alongside the battleship._

 _"_ _Mikasa, we're ready to follow your orders," the duo saluted._

 _"_ _You heard everything, didn't you?" Tōgō asked._

 _"_ _Yes," Shikishima replied, her face uncharacteristically serious, "and we agree with her sentiments as well. It is time that the Russians learn sorrow."_

 _"_ _This is personal business, Admiral," Fuji warned darkly. "Yashima will be ridiculing me for the rest of the month if I can't make my mark."_

 _"_ _Hey hey hey," rumbled the contralto voice of Matsushima in the distance, "Chin' and I aren't about to roll over while you four do your thing! We may be old grandmothers but we'll follow your lead to the last breath! We fight together, we die together."_

 _"_ _Agreed."_

 _"_ _Agreed!"_

 _"_ _This is for my sister."_

 _"_ _For my friend."_

 _"_ _For Akatsuki."_

 _"_ _For Kaimon."_

 _"_ _We officers are in your debt, kanmusu," the admiral bowed, shortly followed by his aide and the captain. "Japan is honored by your loyalty, and is deeply indebted to you all."_

 _At her acknowledgement Mikasa faced forwards to the sea. Sooner or later there would be a decisive battle. It was only a matter of whether it was in victory or in defeat._

 _Everything was in her hands._

 _"_ _Shikishima. Fuji. Asahi. Matsushima. Chin'en. Let's go."_

 _"_ _We will head for Fusan," Akiyama stated. "If the Russians want to reach Vladivostok they'll probably try and use the Tsushima Strait. The port is close by, so we can intercept them easily."_

 _"_ _That will not be our final port of call however," Tōgō continued. "I suspect that there will be spies in and around the peninsula eager to catch us. I know of a little inlet that will be the perfect hiding place for our fleet. Officially, we will be based at the Korean port, but in practice we will rest in uncharted waters."_

 _"_ _Understood." Slowly but surely the fleet at anchor became engulfed in a massive black cloud as the spirits spewed soot and steam from their funnels, billowing smoke high into the air._

 _"_ _All hands! Make sail for Fusan!" Hikojirō bellowed._

 _"_ _To Fusan!" the sailors chorused, scurrying about the deck._

 _Mikasa looked behind her as the other ships slowly followed her lead. The waving crowd and Sasebo grew smaller and smaller…_

* * *

Immediately she sensed that something was wrong as her attention returned to the newspaper. Or rather, the fact that the newspaper was now soaked with chlorinated water. Maybe Akashi's (who had returned unexpectedly) and Tōgō's aghast looks were also a sign of the unfolding problem….

"Well I'll be…" the lieutenant whispered.

The repair ship kanmusu for her part gave the battleship an exaggerated salute between incredulous looks. "How did you…?"

"How did I what?" Mikasa looked back at them in confusion.

"Your hat."

"My hat? What about—" She reached for her cap before the comment struck home.

 _Since when was I wearing my cap? I thought I lost it!_

Shakily, the battleship carefully patted the side of her head. No, she wasn't imagining it! There was the familiar chin strap holding the bluish-black headpiece in place.

But surely Akashi and Tōgō were familiar with the crested insignia of the Imperial Japanese Navy? Was it a taboo symbol in this day and age?

But Tōgō was a descendent from her trusted commander himself! If the cap wasn't the problem, then…

Carefully, she undid her chinstrap and freed the covering from her hair and pulled it down to eyelevel to take a closer look. It was a good thing that she had done so cautiously, for she might have dropped it at the sight before her.

"It is good to see you again, Mikasa," an elderly bearded fairy beamed at her.

* * *

 **A/N:** And there it is.

Just to make it clear, Akiyama Saneyuki and Captain Hikojirō (Ijichi) are also real people.

Akiyama Saneyuki is the better known of the two: he actually has a well-known Japanese novel and dramatization of his life within Japan literature. He was Tōgō's choice for developing a stratagem for Tsushima and was the government's pick to be the navy's delegate at the Treaty of Portsmouth, but his mother's death caused him to resign the position. He unfortunately didn't live very long, dying in 1918 shortly before the end of World War I at the age of 49. While I plan to talk a lot more about Akiyama in later fragments, I will note that he seems to have rubbed elbows with interesting people: he seems to have tried to join the US Naval Academy but was rejected by Mahan of Battleship Doctrine fame and then-SecNav Theodore Roosevelt, and also supported Sun Yat-Sen in the early days of the ROC.

Information about Hikojirō Ijichi is pretty sketchy at best; apparently he was made an admiral of a cruiser squadron of Japan's pre-WWI standing fleet and he featured in some Getty Images but aside from that there's not too much on the guy. Ah well, I have some room with his characterization.

Also note that this fragment is pretty long, so I'll be posting the other parts later this week and the next. There'll be action coming over the next few weeks, I just don't know when exactly yet as I don't want to rush characterization/exposition but I also want to avoid delving too much into base shenanigans.


	16. Dreams and Nightmares: How to Deal

...with 837 confused people. Part two of "High Spirits".

* * *

"A-a-admiral?" She stammered, looking incredulously back at the small statesman.

"The one and same. A student from Britain, pupil of Takamori, warrior from Kagoshima, and at your service," he bowed in greeting.

"Forgive Akiyama," Admiral Tōgō continued, beckoning towards another fairy furiously scanning his surroundings, "understandably we are rather perplexed by this situation."

"Where's Captain Hikojirō?"

At once Mikasa felt a thousand and one voices scream and yell within her.

"Oi, Itai, why you so small?!"

"I'm as small as you are, idiot!"

"Why are we so small?!"

"Ashina! Didn't you die a few months ago?"

"That was food poisoning…you know I can't handle the stew too well…"

"No, I swear you were pronounced dead after the Yellow Sea!"

"…The Yellow Sea?"

"… Was the stew so bad that you can't remember when you died?!"

"Hey fatty, what did you do with your cheeks? Did you eat too much Nikujaga again?"

"Look who's talking! I could stuff your entire family inside your mouth!"

"Take that back!"

"WHY ARE THE BUNKERS FULL OF COAL BUT THERE ARE NO BOILERS TO SHOVEL THEM INTO?!"

"WHY ARE THE OCULAR SIGHTS OVER THERE?"

"WHERE ARE THE GUNS?"

"…did you put your paraphernalia inside the gun locker again?"

"Hey, Admiral!" A fairy popped out from Mikasa's right ear before freezing and looking about him. He quickly crawled back inside her ear canal, then out, then back in.

"…Did I just come out from Mikasa's ear?" he asked in confusion.

"It appears that would be the case," Akiyama replied simply.

"No way…" Captain Hikojirō disappeared then reappeared a few more times. "This is so…strange. From your point of view I'm inside Mikasa's ear, but once you crawl inside it's a rampart leading to the conning tower."

"It appears that Mikasa is now human in appearance only, whereas we are humans in name only."

At Tōgō's conclusion the battleship suddenly felt her knees go weak and barely avoided tumbling to the pool's surface. There were a lot of aggravated cries within her as fairies, ammunition, equipment, and bunks and cots were unceremoniously tossed about.

Her barely-avoided-faceplant brought the battleship's attention to other changes, namely, the fact that she had been _standing without support_ for the past few minutes on the water's surface. To be fair, it wasn't like she had never walked on water before, but this was the first time she had done so in _decades._

On top of that, surrounding her waist were two turrets arranged like drums on either side, held neatly in place by matching white suspenders. A bandolier of alternating rows of twelve-pound and six-inch guns neatly formed an officer's sash around her pitch-black uniform. Finally, a pale but elegant gorget adorned with a chrysanthemum rested below her collar. All-in-all, she resembled an Imperial Japanese Naval Officer in the service of Her Majesty's colonial forces.

An officer that was freezing to death in the Yokosukan sun.

"Mikasa!" Akashi ran over and slowly helped the rapidly-turning-blue-battleship back up to her feet.

"So cold…" she croaked. "the hell did you do…why…is it so…cold?"

"We didn't change anything," the lieutenant replied with a puzzled expression as she carefully wrapped Mikasa in a warm hospital blanket. "I'm not sure why you're looking so clammy."

"Lifting her out of the pool and drying her up would probably be a good start," the repair ship offered, "then we-or rather I-can give her a physical examination. Should be easy now that we're the same kind of spirit."

At that moment Mikasa's head unceremoniously rammed itself into Akashi's chin (Akiyama and Admiral Tōgō had handily jumped clear of the collision site).

"When did you get so tall?" The pre-dreadnought murmured inquiringly, flicking her eyes in Akashi's direction.

"Me? Tall?"

"Yes you. You're a bloody giantess now," nodding at the fact that the repair ship was a good head taller than her.

"Mikasa…I'm only a little over 500 feet long…"

"That's at least 70 feet longer than I am. If you're trying to compare yourself to Kongō, don't be foolish; she's quite the Amazonian warrior. Even before her modernization she was almost as big as Nagato, and that's saying something."

"Actually…" Akashi scratched her head sheepishly. "Kongō is a bit on the short side now."

"What."

"There are battleships that are over _800_ feet long now," the repair ship continued.

"What."

"Destroyers have grown up too since the Great War. Quite a good number of them are almost your size now."

 **"** **What."**

"As are cruisers. Takao and her sisters are definitely near Kongō's length if I recall correctly, and that's not mentioning the…'Large Cruisers' of the United States. Those are definitely _large._ "

 **"** **WHAAT."**

"I think the United States has recently launched aircraft carriers that over a thousand feet in length, actually," Lieutenant Tōgō added.

" **WHAAAAAATTTTTT**."

"So in summary, your height probably scales to the tallest ship in the Second World War now. Which might be the Iowas-"

"-or Hood-"

"-or the Yamato sisters—"

"-all of whom are well over 800 feet in length."

 **"** **WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY."**

* * *

"Is she going to be alright?" Admiral Tōgō inquired as he watched his flagship curl up into a ball and exhibit a one-thousand-yard stare.

"Of course," Akashi smiled, suppressing the instinct to snort at his concern. "Mikasa's just being a little dramatic right now."

"I suppose it's in her blood," the fairy mused. "I heard that England had its own share of quality acting back in the day, and if you combine that with our own talent at kabuki and noh…"

"You get a very expressive battleship."

"Indeed. Well, when you shake the kettle a little."

 _Tap. Tap._

"Admiral," Akiyama saluted, "requesting permission to scout the surrounding area to figure out where exactly we are."

"I believe the pink-haired woman said this was a hospital," Captain Hikojirō returned.

"Yes, but a hospital _where_ , exactly? China? Korea? Japan? Sasebo? Yokosuka? Kure? Russia?

"You could always ask her for the details."

"But I believe that is not what Akiyama desires," Tōgō answered, staring intently at his aide's face. "I suspect that you wish to see what the world is like at present."

"Y-y-yes sir."

"Go ahead," he smiled in encouragement. "Take some of the sailors with you. I am fairly certain you are not the only one with an itch to scratch."

"Understood."

"Actually," Akashi chimed in. "Gensui Tōgō, do you think you could request the entire crew to take leave away from Mikasa? She seems to be suffering from hypothermia, which is most unusual for a kanmusu, so I would like to examine Mikasa to see if she has broken machinery. Privately."

"Of course," the admiral bowed. "I believe that there were reports that something was amiss in the boiler and engine rooms. Seeing that Mikasa's compartments are rather…similar…to certain aspects of human anatomy, I understand that there must be some discretion when rowdy sailors are involved. I am impressed, however, that a spirit such as yourself is so knowledgeable about the ins and outs of various ships girls, so to speak."

"That would be the product of my time in the Navy. I was designated as a repair ship from the moment I was laid down."

"A repair ship, you said? Ah, then that would explain everything."

* * *

"A….ten-tion!"

"Eyes front!"

About a foot away from the pool that was formerly Mikasa's berth was a formation of more than eight-hundred fairies in a massive horizontal column, their backs turned so that they faced away from a certain pre-dreadnought undressing.

They were the paragon of Japanese discipline and duty, with each crewmember standing still and silently while remaining calculatingly equidistant from one partner to the next. Officers strolled up and down in search of undisciplined culprits to no avail. The fervor to do their best for the country overrode all other sentiments.

At least, that's what the officers had been hoping for.

"Keep facing forward, sailor," a lieutenant patted a midshipman scoldingly. "Remember that you are here to fight the nation's enemies, not admire naked women."

"What if the ship I am serving on _is_ a beautiful woman?" The sailor quipped to laughter from his comrades. "Someone needs to tend to her boiler room, y'know. Those things need a good stoking."

"Impudent rascal," the lieutenant's grizzled partner growled. "The new generation has no respect for the principles that this government was founded on."

"Omura," the lieutenant called out warningly, stepping in between the cheeky sailor and the irritated officer. "I can handle this. Sailor, remember that her duty is to protect us. Please try and refrain from making inappropriate comments."

"Roger that!" He winked, before resuming formation.

"You are far too lenient," Omura snapped as they continued down the line. "That sailor deserved his comeuppance for showing such disrespect to his duties in the navy."

"He means well," the officer sighed, rubbing his neck. "They all do."

"Sakamoto Ryōma would be rolling in his grave if he had an _inkling_ of what kind of debauched recruits the Navy was accepting into its forces," he spat.

"Omura…"

"Alright, I'll admit I stepped out of line. But as a sailor who has served the Emperor since Hakodate my opinion still stands."

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Admiral Tōgō interrupted.

"Between us? No. However, some of the men can't keep their focus on the massive wall in front of them."

"I do admit it's undoubtedly a far less exciting scene that what's going on behind them, but we must display at all times our decency. It would bode poorly for the Navy if we cannot even maintain the decency of letting our trusted friend to undress herself in peace."

"I believe I have a solution, sir," Lieutenant Omura cleared his throat.

"I trust that it is a fair solution?" he returned warily.

"A fair one that will also help the sailors remember why they are here now. Make everyone sing Gunkan kōshinkyoku."

"Ah, the Navy's song. I can agree to that. Captain Hikojirō, would you like the honor?"

"Certainly."

The officer put his fingers to his lips and gave a hearty whistle.

"Listen up!"

* * *

 _"_ _If I die on the ocean, my corpse will wash ashore…"_

"Incredible," one of Akashi's fairies murmured as the eight-hundred man complement reached the song's climax.

"This is making me want to get up and fight abyssal with my bare hands," another one added, boxing the air with his fists.

 _"_ _But if I die for the Emperor..."_

"Now imagine if the Yamato sisters' crews joined in."

"By Amaterasu, I imagine that the abyssals would be vanquished in one day."

* * *

"I suppose I can only escape my true age for so long," Mikasa sighed in resignation as two locks of white hair greeted her reflection. While her long hair remained safely black, there was no doubt in her mind that it would eventually be replaced by a snowy white color.

"Actually," Akashi objected, "I think that's part of your livery. Wasn't there a point where your hull was planted black with white stripes?"

"There was, and I missed that paint scheme dearly," the pre-dreadnought replied, cuddling her nearly pitch-black cap. "Grey and white is simply not my color."

"I can test the locks now if you want."

"No, thank you for the offer. Unlike _some_ battleships I'm okay looking like my age," Mikasa prodded as she neatly placed her clothes to the side to study her new form.

"I'm not a proper skinny anymore," she sighed in disappointment. The elderly battleship had been hoping that she would simply be a downsized version of her old self, but such was not the case. Her overall height had decreased, but her girth had not subsided proportionately, giving her a slightly stockier appearance. It was not enough to make a noticeable difference, but it was enough to be a cause of some mild annoyance.

"Like I said, you resemble your physical hull in every sense of the word now," Akashi stated. "The reason why you think you're so bulky is because of your beam. It's pretty big compared to your overall length, even more so than the United States's standards who are considered on the plump side, but for some reason it's making you look…'adorable' for lack of a better word."

"I was hoping you would say 'stately'…am I turning into a Yamato nadeshiko _?_ " came the confused murmur at the sight of her significantly more blanched complexion.

"With your expressiveness and thought process I'd say Hōshō still has you beat. As for your skin tone…" the repair ship approached her to get a closer look. "You're not that pale. Akitsu Maru looks like a sheet of paper with eyes."

"And me?"

"You look like an egg shell with eyes."

"…is there a really a difference or are you making that up?"

"There is. I can't remember which one, but a Fletcher sent me a pair of crayons as proof."

* * *

"Admiral."

As the last reverberations of the sailors' chorus faded into nothingness, a familiar aiguiletted officer returned with a company of Type 35-wielding Landing Forces in tow. Whatever they had seen, it had clearly left them in awe, for the soldiers were looking about them with renewed interest.

"Ah, Akiyama, so how was your little scouting mission?"

"Incredible," a soldier blurted out before he could restrain himself. "My apologies, sir," he corrected himself.

"He has the right idea. It was a little bit more of a hike getting to the window ledge than I would like, but the view was worth it. We're at Yokosuka. Over there," he pointed out far beyond the bluish-brown waters, "is Tokyo."

"I should have known. So that's the bay, eh?"

Before his chief strategist could reply he was swarmed by a horde of eager seamen.

"Oi, Akiyama-san, you said Tokyo's over there?!"

"Do you think you can see Asakusa-Ku from here?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Katō…Shiba's probably the best you can see."

"Nonsense, what are those tall buildings in the distance? That _has_ to be the interior."

"I believe that is what they call a skyscraper. But since when did Japan have so many of them…"

"Hey Akiyama-san, we're from Aizu, so we have no idea what this 'skyscraper' is. Care to explain?"

"Imagine a really tall tower with numerous floors for people to live in or establish business."

"…How tall are we talking about?"

"Some of them looked over fifty floors and well over Mikasa's size."

"WHAT?"

"Has architecture advanced that much?"

"Aw jeez, my house must look like a slum now…and my ancestors were so proud of its stature…"

"Oiyoiyoi, what about Yokohama?"

"I wonder if my family's still around…"

"When should we introduce ourselves?" One of Akashi's fairies whispered to the other.

"I don't know if they can handle the truth," he whispered back.

"Hey, you two up there!"

"Aw shit." The first fairy covered his face as his companion nervously glanced below them at the several-hundred confused sailors.

"You guys seem to know a lot about our situation. What's going on?"

"Yeah, why is Tokyo so different?"

"What's this massive breeze coming from that hole up there? Are there secret windows or something?"

"What year is this?"

"Me and my fat mouth," the fairy groaned.

* * *

The pre-dreadnought winced as she felt the repair ship pinch her unexpectedly.

"What was that for?"

"Checking your armor to see if there was any shoddy patchwork done which there was," the pink-haired kanmusu replied without skipping a beat. "It's always the case with former museum ship girls that you return as some unholy combination of your as-completed, in-service, and museum state. For you, it's heavily the latter two than the former. I saw your 12"/45's instead of 12"/40's, and then," she pulled off a poorly-healed scab hidden beneath the battleship's hair, "there's things like this. I think this is actually a remnant of repairwork done during the Russo-Japanese War."

"Anyway," Akashi continued, "just keep checking yourself. Don't mind me."

"Well, this should be easy. I still have ten toes, two feet, two legs…"

Mikasa paused and reddened a little as her gaze approached her lower body.

"…a boiler room, an engine room…"

"Actually, _that's_ the engine room, and _this,"_ a helpful hand pointed upwards at her stomach, "is the boiler room. Or rooms, if the two are in an alternating pattern within your citadel."

"…the arrangement swapped? Why?"

"There are a lot of questions about the ship girl body that still aren't answered yet," Akashi shrugged, "but that's what the consensus among repair ships is for the moment. It's still roughly your citadel region, so it's a sensitive section regardless."

"Well then…anyway, an engine room, a telegraph room, mess, passageway to the officer's quarters…"

Then she got to her upper torso.

"Of course _those_ didn't decrease," she rued, looking at her chest distastefully. Mikasa never had a prominent bust, and even after her transformation it remained something that few people would pay attention to, but she had prided herself in possessing a "respectable" figure. Prolonged exposure to Fuji's penny dreadfuls, Asahi's steamy romance novels, and Kaimon's…"art" had given her the impression that busty women were nothing but trouble. That was to say nothing of the difficulty she imagined in finding comfortable clothing without looking seductive. She could slip into anything tight or loose, but no doubt someone with a more rounded figure would have questioning eyes following them.

The fact that she willing to do _anything_ just to gain an inch in height certainly had _nothing_ to do with her annoyance.

Mikasa shivered again as she felt something brush against her ear and come to rest against her bridge.

 _Beep._

"Did you know that if it wasn't for the 'spirit' part keeping you going you would be dead? You're running on I-don't-know-what right now; according to this thermometer you are not producing _any_ steam or heat _at_ _all_ because your boilers and engines for whatever reason are shot. No wonder you feel cold! My guess is that for whatever reason your museum status meant that there was nothing to miniaturize ."

"That's what the engineers informed me as well when they first came back. Is that the only problem you found?"

"I'd say so on the subject of outstanding issues, but since your impending refit will remedy that you look perfectly fine to me."

"Actually, I see another problem," she waved her comically oversized sleeves in the repair ship's direction. "Is there _anything_ you can do about my stature? I look like a midget."

"Unless you gain another hundred feet or so on your overall length I'm afraid your uniform will forever be too big for you. You're going to need a new outfit."

"A new outfit?" Mikasa raised an eyebrow. "What kind of outfit?"

"You could get a Miko outfit like Kongō and the other battleships…"

"You jest. I bear no grudge against traditional outfits, but those red and white things look absolutely hideous on me."

"What about something like mine? Ōyodo and Yamato wear something similar to this, and it's a fairly decent looking too."

"I'll pass."

"Oh, come on. Yamato's renowned for her good tastes, and doesn't this skirt look comfortable?"

"If you remove the slits on the side we _might_ have room for negotiation."

"The slits are what make the skirt comfortable though!"

"Akashi, I don't know if you realize this, but when you bent over earlier _I could see your engine room._ "

"M-m-my engine room?" The repair ship furiously blushed scarlet. "Mikasa, don't look there!"

"It's hard _not_ to notice these things when there's a dramatic contrast between the color of your skirt and your bare skin and you're always absentmindedly hanging tools on the side of it like it's some sort of belt."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Did you have something particular in mind, then?"

"Yes. My current uniform, scaled to my current, hopefully-to-be-increased height."

"But you'll be the only one in such formal wear! Come on, it's a whole new century! Surely you don't want to experiment with something more casual?"

"Again, I'll pass."

"But you'll need to wear _something else_ for the time being," Akashi smiled triumphantly. "You said that's too big for comfort, to say nothing of the wear and tear that's been through. Besides, I'm pretty sure there's nothing immediately available your size on base. At least among kanmusu."

"Nonsense, I'll just wear this then until I can figure out an alternative. If I can still fit, I'm still using it."

 _"_ Mikasa, please..."

"I'll sleep on it," the battleship returned with her own smile, carefully compacting her jacket into a pillow, "and give you an answer some other time. How about that?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Sometimes, I wonder if Akashi's fairies were exaggerating; while the "Warship March" was written in 1897 and has a memorial inscription in Mikasa Park supposedly it was only played once by Mikasa, and right before Tsushima (Kimigayo appears to be the more frequent choice). Either the ship's band and crew did a really good job at it (especially in the original key, which is apparently pretty high for most men) or they massacred it and the fairies simply wanted to be polite.

As for Mikasa's crew, they're in for quite a few surprises. Some of them lived long enough to see World War II or the road to it (and be promoted along the way), others are going to need a _lot_ of updating on modern culture. I plan to have the fairies quite involved in some form or another beyond this chapter.

Also, note that Mikasa is short. Like a few dozen feet away from being Fletcher-sized short. At 430ish feet, she's not too happy about this biology-scaling thing. Even though Mikasa can be quite tomboyish at times she is also quite traditional in terms of fashion sensibilities thanks to the era during which she was designed. Needless to say, she might burst a few tubes and boilers at the more revealing outfits (read: anything that exposes skin above the ankles or knees) worn by later ship girls. This already reared its head slightly when she first met World War II!Akatsuki.


	17. Dreams and Nightmares: Lost

**A/N:** A (hopefully humorous) fragment about the fairies after their return. The full title of this section is "Lost in Translation."

* * *

She stared at the small fairy numbly.

This was not just any Tōgō but _the Marquis and Marshal-Admiral_ Tōgō. Her great-great-granduncle and master tactician. A man who had rubbed elbows with some of the country's founding fathers and even inspired them. A man who had overcome his own flaws to become one of the most respected officers in modern history She couldn't help but feel utterly inept and a fool, a copycat who tried but could never resemble the true commander.

* * *

"That woman has been staring at us strangely for the past few minutes, hasn't she, Captain?"

"I disagree, she isn't staring at _us_ but at _you_."

"I wonder why. She doesn't look much like Tetsu, so there can't be any relation."

"Maybe we can ask her why."

"Excuse me madam, but who are you?"

* * *

"Desu desu desu, desu desu?"

"Huh?" Jukeini tilted her head in confusion. "Dammit, if only I could speak fairy…"

* * *

"Excuse me madam?"

"Madam?"

"Perhaps it is because your accent?" Akiyama sweated.

"I didn't realize that I still had a lingering Kyūshū dialect, or that the southern island had such a different intonation than the rest of Japan. No matter, how about you try?"

"HEY! MADAM! DO YOU MIND IF WE ASK YOU A QUESTION?"

* * *

"DESU! DESU! DESU DESU DESU!"

"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!"

* * *

"I don't think she can understand us, if her expression is any indication."

"I think she said that too."

"But in what language?" Captain Hikojirō asked nervously.

At that moment the three officers came to a horrifying revelation.

"Hey, Admiral," Akiyama looked at his superior worriedly. "What if Japanese isn't a spoken language anymore? What if it's gone extinct?"

"It can't have. Japan was thriving the last time any of us can remember. Maybe she's not Japanese?"

"If she's not Japanese, but she's in Japan, what can she speak?!"

"I know some French, but only passingly to give out commands. The only other language we can try is English."

"It's unlikely, but it's worth a shot."

"Hello! Madam? Could you be so kind to tell us what is on your mind?"

* * *

"OI! OI? OIIIIII OI OI!"

Her message got through. They were trying something else now in a vain attempt to communicate.

To their credit they hadn't given up, but it was all the same.

They wanted to chat, and _she_ wanted to chat, but how to break the impasse?

Hold on. She ran over back to her napkin sketch and took out a pen…

* * *

"So she can't understand English then," Hikojirō commented.

"If she can't speak English or Japanese, then then it means that the United States or the United Kingdom has taken over. But if the United States hasn't taken over, and if the United Kingdom hasn't exerted influence over Japan, then…?"

 _SWAT._

A giant sheet of paper flew towards them and landed at their feet.

"I DON'T SPEAK FAIRY," it stated in bold characters.

"It's in Kanji…" Akiyama noted confusedly.

"And what is Fairy?"

"Perhaps they don't call it Japanese anymore?" Admiral Tōgō mused.

"It could be. The characters look…simplified."

"I got it!" Akiyama slammed his hands together as the realization hit him. "Our…forms," he pointed at his fellow officers and himself, "are termed fairies. It seems that there is still some sort of speaking barrier between the dead and the living. We can understand them just fine, but not the reverse."

"I see, but the living aren't missing out on—"

 _Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Scratch. SWAT._

"IS MY KANJI OKAY?"

"I guess our existential musings will have to wait. Do you have a pen?"

* * *

She held her breath as the fairy Admiral neatly took out a tiny writing utensil and began to indicate his response.

As much as she wanted to congratulate herself on her ingenious solution, the Lieutenant Tōgō quickly realized that there was one problem.

A miniscule problem.

"How the fuck am I going to be able to read that?" She groaned as the first miniature characters greeted her.

Where did she put her reading glass…

* * *

"Dear….Madam…Who…Are…"

"Admiral, stop."

"Hm? What is it, Captain?"

"I just realized something. If we're writing our response to humans, we'll need to write _bigger_. I don't think they can read our handwriting."

"But how much bigger," Admiral Tōgō sighed as he realized the magnitude of the impending crisis.

"Maybe as big as yourself? It'll be a lot of work, but she should be able to see it without contorting herself."

* * *

"Dear Madam, Who Are You?"

Admiral Tōgō smiled as he looked over his handiwork. He confessed he was not the most artistic writer, having fallen out of proficiency in the skill since his samurai youth, but it would do.

Now all he had to do was wait for-

"She's Tōgō Jukeini," Akashi answered before her human counterpart could reply as she peered over the sheet of scratch paper.

The three fairies stared at her in disbelief.

"Wait, Akashi-san…"

"You could translate for us this entire time and you didn't say anything?!"

"I was busy helping Mikasa," the repair ship flushed in embarrassment. "If I had known you were having trouble communicating I would have gladly helped."

"About Mikasa…so what is her status?" The Admiral inquired with a concerned look.

"She's going to be out of service for a little longer. The reason why the Engine and Boiler Rooms were reporting trouble is because she _doesn't have_ engines or boilers. On top of that, she's overdue on modernization, so she'll be out of commission for another week or so."

"I pray that will not be problematic for the Navy?"

"It will be a bit of a stretch," Akashi grimaced. "We got squeezed thin logistically after an attack nearly a week ago now, but the admiralty believes it's possible. I just have to wait for news from Kure and Sasebo about the equipment I'll be needing."

"So, they want to try and deploy a pre-dreadnought? As much as Mikasa and I are glad to help, I hope that the situation is not so dire that you must call upon a pre-dreadnought and an old man to save the day."

"Fortunately, the Navy seeks Mikasa out of goodwill and not desperation. The battleship's spirit and good-tempered nature are well respected among her various successors, and it is believed that she can help buoy morale after our recent setback. Furthermore, her maintenance requirements are considered cost-effective in the present moment, and even after we modernize her to the others' standards she'll be real handy."

"I am certain Mikasa will be rather pleased with that news."

"Oh she is! Lieutenant Tōgō is most excited to assist. She has a respectable interest in Naval Architecture."

"An aspiring Yuzuru Hiraga of kanmusu, I see. It appears that Mikasa is in good hands."

"What's going on?" Lieutenant Tōgō whispered to Akashi.

"They're complimenting you," Akashi whispered back.

"Why thank you," the lieutenant gave the fairies an exaggerated bow.

"What a courteous young woman," the admiral smiled in return.

His strategist and captain had other thoughts.

"Akashi-san," Captain Hikojirō cleared his throat. "I have a question about Lieutenant Tōgō's heritage. Is she related to Admiral Tōgō, by chance?"

"Why indeed she is."

Akiyama gave Admiral Tōgō a suggestive look.

"Oh, not this joke again you two," his superior rolled his eyes and playfully punched them in the shoulder.

"I descend from your oldest brother's line," the lieutenant explained.

"She said she's a descendent of your brothers."

"My brothers?" Admiral Tōgō's eyes softened. "Which one?"

"The eldest. Beg pardon Gensui, but I was unaware that you had brothers. Did they –"

"They died a long time ago. A long, long, long time ago," he said sadly. "Akashi?"

"S-s-s-sorry Gensui! Yes, sir?"

"Can you ask my niece if she ever wants to chat sometime?"

There was a brief pause as Akashi relayed his message to Tōgō the younger.

"I wonder if any of my children survived," Akiyama mused thoughtfully as they waited.

"It would be weird to meet them though," Hikojirō reminded him. "They were at your death bad, so they would undoubtedly be disturbed at the sight of your miniature form trying to host a family reunion."

"Perhaps," he decided, "but I do wonder what they've been up to."

"It could be worse. You could find out that they fought in a war and perished."

"Sometimes, I wonder if that is the case for my sons," Tōgō frowned. "Minoru was always eager to follow my footsteps, and perhaps even Takeshi was pulled into whatever political hot mess Japan was in."

"…Hot Mess?"

"C-certainly!" interrupted the lieutenant's cheerful voice, trying in vain to suppress her awe and excitement at being honored by her ancestor.

"She said yes, and looks forward to her next meeting, though…that should be real soon, considering that's she also recovering with Mikasa."

"Is that so…"

A lone tear trickled down the Admiral's cheek.

"If only you were here to see your children, brother."

* * *

"Pour me another glass…"

"Of the wine or of the sherry?"

"The sherry. I need something to calm my nerves, Goto."

"Under normal circumstances, I would disapprove of you stocking a miniature winery so close to your business affairs, but this is no normal circumstance," the Minister of Defense sighed gloomily. "This was so sudden…"

"We don't even have a list of potential candidates written out yet," the Chief of Staff grunted as he took a hearty sip. "As if the military hasn't been shaken up enough as-is by this recent turn of events."

"I suppose it is serious."

"Serious? Goto, don't adopt the Prime Minister's tone of speech. This is _disastrous. Catastrophic._ There are very few men bestowed with the gift of tact and tolerance in the same body, and even fewer willing to hold command positions, and that number in the JSDF just went down by one. You of all people should know this."

"I am aware of that, Chief, but as the man always said, 'you can't see beyond the waves if you're always looking at them.' Even if the wave brings up the most foul, retched things that can barely be stomached."

"It may not seem this way whenever we frequently talk or trash on you, but the Kanmusu branch of the JMSDF is one of the most highly-esteemed divisions in the country, if not the world," the Minister of Defence stated carefully.

"Of course it is. You learned the hard way that kanmusu were not just weapons of war to be commanded by stuffy old conventional men."

"Ah Goto, Goto, you are always willing to mince words, and that's something I respect about you. You have gumption, even if it makes you say gutsy things. I remember now when you were being considered for promotion and Chief whispered to me, 'are we really letting this man become an admiral? As a commander within our newest, prized branch? When he's only 36?' Then we read the damnedest fine letter arguing in favor of your promotion we ever saw."

"I might remind you that _I_ did not write that letter."

"Indeed you did not."

"Say, Goto…knowing what you know now about the tics and issues with working with kanmusu…do you have any suggestions for a successor?"

"I do."

"Please share them."

"I doubt you'd consider them. They're too low ranked."

"We considered you when you still a commodore."

 _Knock. Knock._

"Come in."

"'lo." The sailor stopped and gave each man a hearty salute. "What's with the dour faces?"

"We're having a mourning party."

"Bad news, sir?" He guessed. Goto nodded.

"Well, hopefully this will make your day better," the seaman returned cheerfully as he handed the admiral a packet of letters. "Came in hot earlier this afternoon."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure sir, good evening, all." In a flash the sailor walked away and closed the door to Goto's office.

"Official reports from Akashi, I see," the Chief of Staff noted as he studied a robust package from the pile. "Mind if I open it?"

"Go ahead."

The cabinet member frowned as he scrutinized its contents.

"I don't get it."

"Hm?"

"It says 'She's back.' Just those two words taking up an entire sheet of paper. What does that mean?"

"I knew she could find a way," Goto smiled. "Apparently she figured out how to turn Mikasa into a kanmusu."

"So you mean-?"

"Yes."

"That _is_ good news," the Minister of Defense sighed in relief. "Though I feel an impending sense of doom at the impending press conference the media is going to demand held in her honor. The Yamato sisters nearly gave me a heart attack every single time they answered a question."

"Hopefully she can help restore confidence too," the Chief of Staff added. "The opposition in the Diet seemed to have multiplied after the Prime Minister's official statement on the attacks."

"What about the other packet?" the Minister inquired, just to have it swiped out of his hands.

"Private correspondence, my apologies," Goto explained hurriedly as he perused the letter.

"Private correspondence? Through official channels?"

"At least it should be…I know his mailing system…if it's blue it's something confidential…unless…hold on…" He gave a toothy grin as he reread a paragraph.

"I am afraid I am not fond of suspense, Goto. What is it?"

"Oh, this is _great_ news," he refolded the letter. "This is a good day for the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force."

Goto looked from the impatient Chief of Staff to the on-edge Minister of Defense.

"I have a candidate to recommend; he might as well have just pulled victory from the jaws of defeat. My case?" He tossed the Minister of Defense the blue envelope. "This damn letter."

* * *

 **A/N:** Some context for some references in this fragment:

Some of the few sources I've found discussing the Admiral's personal life and pre-Tsushima career indicate that he was married to a woman named Kaede (or Kaeda) Tetsu(ko). Needless to say, serving on iron-steel castles as part of your career and marrying someone whose name means Iron Child can lead to...mild amusement to say the least.

Tōgō also appears to be the third of four brothers born into the family of a local magistrate serving the Shimazu Clan; unfortunately only Tōgō the admiral would be the only one to see the year 1900, the exact cause of which I will explain in a later chapter.

Finally, Tōgō's slight knowledge of French comes from his time as an observer in the French navy during the Sino-French War.


	18. Dreams and Nightmares: Flight

**A/N:** There are about 5 to 6 fragments left that I'm trying to write up and finish as fast as possible before we get to Mikasa's first sortie. Some of these include but are not limited to Abyssal business Mikasa training with her new refit, and resolving the JMSDF's little problem.

Here, the Abyssals discover a 'little' problem...

* * *

"HYAAA!"

"Mutsuki-chan, you're supposed to feed the gulls, not kill them!"

"But they're so far out from shore…"

"Leave your hand out like this…they'll come to you, see?"

"Ah!"

"Oi, birdbrain! Eat the bread, not her hand!"

"Maybe they're starving, poi?"

"What about that over there? It looks plump enough to be a king!"

Said seagull glared at them coldly, opening and closing its beak sharply.

"It looks so menacing…"

* * *

"Damn," she swore, frantically jerking her hands back and forth. "This is so hard! I can barely see anything from this vantage point!"

"You're doing better than I am," her smaller partner replied, casting the miniature carrier a bored look. "I can't get that close with my seaplanes. All I can see is Sasebo Naval Base and a bunch of JMSDF ships, and that's it."

"But still," she flexed her fingers, "this surveillance comes at a price. Bird prototypes are a lot harder to command than conventional—" The abyssal paled and felt her blood run cold as she spotted something through the seagull's eye .

"Wahi, we gotta go."

"Why—oh shit!" The submarine's aircraft caught the sight of a small squadron of kanmusu, two submarines, a heavy cruiser, and three destroyers by the looks of it, setting forth from Sasebo. At the rate the ship girls were sailing, they were on a collision course with the two scouts.

"Where can we hide?"

"The inlet! Over there! Quick!"

"Hawk, c'mon!"

"I'm too big, they'll see me!"

"You _have_ to fit in here," her partner nearly screamed in panic, "otherwise we're dead meat!"

Hawk sweated as the kanmusu's distant voices wafted over.

"Hahahaha, that's hilarious, Imuya!"

"Nachi-san, have you been drinking again?"

"Me? Drinking? Of course not! I have a class to teach after this!"

"A heavy cruiser and a cruiser submarine…we are _so_ dead."

"Hawk," Wahi spoke at last, "forgive me for what I am about to do."

 _Mmph! MMPF!_

The carrier thrashed about in blind panic as her vision turned black, then white. A stream of bubbles phased in and out of her line of sight…

* * *

"Hachi, is something the matter?" Imuya asked, noticing her submersible partner frowning and glancing in the distance suspiciously.

"I thought I heard something…"

"It could be the seagulls, or a whale's mating call perhaps."

"No, there was a detectable disturbance by sonar."

"Active or Passive?"

"Both."

"Come to think of it , I felt something too…"The pink-haired submarine scowled and reached for the tank-like device strapped to her back. "If you heard something, and I heard something, you know what that means…"

* * *

Had she been a kanmusu, Wahi would have been thanking every god and goddess she could think of.

A few hundred feet below the surface near the inlet was a small cave. It was large enough to barely fit the two of them, and nothing larger. If she had been ill-versed in the curves and bends of the seascape they would have been annihilated abyssals.

She ignored Hawk's bluish-black face that was tightly embedded with her palm; abyssals could withstand significant punishment before dying. The carrier would be a lot more useful with a damaged hangar and fuel supply than lying in pieces at the bottom of the ocean.

 _Ping._

Something was coming.

 _The submarines._

 _Ping._

She furiously hugged the lining of the rock formation, trying to blend her signature.

 _Ping._

They were getting terrifyingly close to her position. The abyssal shut off her sonar, silenced her engines, closed her eyes…

And was met with silence.

Cautiously, Wahi opened an eye. Were they gone? Had they not seen her? Could it be possible that the kanmusu were lying in wait the moment she peeked outside of their hiding spot?

 _FWOOM. FWOOP._

 _FWOOM. FWOOP._

No sooner had such fearful scenarios etched themselves in her mind than a pair of torpedoes slammed into the ground a few hundred meters away. Then another set. And another.

 _FWOOM. FWOOP._

 _FWOOM. FWOOP._

She swore as a chunk of rock hurled itself in their direction, coming to rest mere inches away from their face.

 _How many torpedoes do those damn kanmusu have?_

 _FWOOM. FWOOP._

FWOOM. FWOOP.

"We're getting out of this alive," the abyssal hissed as she tried to shield her charge from further debris. The submarine girls seemed to be shooting blindly. If only she and Hawk could wait out the barrage…

* * *

"Imuya, Hachi, what on earth are you two doing down there?"

"We heard something and wanted to investigate."

"Well, whatever it is it's dead now. I think you unloaded twenty torpedoes into that thing."

"Come on! We're going to be late for the meet up!"

"Yes, Nachi! Imuya, surfacing!"

The German-studied submarine looked ready to protest, but slumped her shoulders in defeat.

"Hachi, heading up."

Perhaps it was possible to be _too_ overzealous in her suspicions…

* * *

The first thing she remembered was the burning sensation of the salty atmosphere.

It was air. Glorious air.

"You can breathe now."

Hawk arched her back and sighed in relief. "Damn it Wahi, I thought we were going to die down there."

"A little ocean dive never harmed anyone," she shrugged. "Your hull corroded a bit from the brief dip, though. Better ask Poet for repairs when she comes back from her mission."

"I'm going to need it," the carrier groaned, massaging her muscles. "You couldn't have even given me a heads up?"

"My philosophy is that it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission," Wahi returned, studying her fingernails carefully. "But I shall not make such a request, for now. We still have a job to complete."

"Right, confirm the picket's report."

A gull squawked angrily as it emerged from Hawk's stomach.

"Come on now, launch!" she snapped as the bird twisted and turned before finally clearing her flight deck.

"Is the other plane still hidden near the Naval District?"

"Yes, though it's probably useless after being submerged in a dive-peck position for so long. Where do you need them?"

"Scan to our north, I'll check the southern reaches. It's easier for me, and besides, I overheard the kanmusu planning some sort of rendezvous earlier."

"Roger that."

* * *

 _"_ _I'm telling you we aren't bluffing!" The Ka-class submarine shouted, her panic-stricken eyes shining through her unkempt hair. "We saw figures moving, and plenty of them!"_

 _"_ _There were ships too," a small destroyer piped up. "Since we're too small to make much use of radar we couldn't identify their position for certain, but we could hear their engines."_

 _"_ _Nonsense."_

 _"_ _I believe you."_

 _"_ _Hawk, are you crazy?"_

 _"_ _Wahi," Hawk glanced at her fearfully. "The kanmusu fleet never sleeps. Back when I was serving the Jellyfish Princess, they recreated the Tokyo Express and kept the supply lines open. Without their help, we would have won."_

 _"_ _But if they're making supply runs, then…"_

 _"_ _Yes. The Job isn't finished."_

The more and more she thought about the kanmusu's conversation, the more Wahi worried. At first she had assumed that it was a fluke, an emergency run to Okinawa or some other allied base in order to retrieve resources.

But a meetup had entirely different connotations. It meant the joining of forces, a reunion, the uniting of arms. All of those had very bad meanings for the Combined Abyssal Fleet. However, one question remained: who could it be? The ROCN? The PLAN? The ROKN? Perhaps the PN was making a daring midnight maneuver northwards?

Her questions were answered unexpectedly by the sudden appearance of white wakes on the horizon.

"No…it can't be."

* * *

"Single mast…one five inch gun…one hundred and seventy meters approximate by twenty meters approximate…"

Hawk flipped through the pages of a guide on the various vessels of the JMSDF one of the older battleships had kindly pieced together. It was a hassle keeping the book dry, but the manual was more than worth its weight in gold.

"96 cells…one helicopter…" At last, she found the silhouette she had been looking for.

"So…the JDS _Ashigara_ then?" The carrier scribbled the destroyer's approximate position on a scrap of cloth that had been torn off her ample dress. Unlike her elder sister, Hawk believed there were benefits to being overcovered. Paper was hard to come by and even harder to keep in pristine condition on the front lines, and the information scrawled on cloth could be securely wrapped around her body during transit.

"I wonder why it looks ready to be under way," she mused as she caught sight of the destroyer's relatively prepared state. For a ship supposed to be holed up in Sasebo until further notice, it was in fairly battle-ready condition.

"No matter…onto the next-."

"Hawk!"

Startled, said abyssal shrieked and jumped at her name.

"I need your bird over here, and fast!"

"Can it wait? I haven't finished identifying all of the ships in the harbor."

"No! I need them here, and I need them, NOW!"

"Send me the coordinates and I'll be on my way."

* * *

Two light cruisers in orange dresses. Eight spritely destroyers. One heavy cruiser. One light aircraft carrier.

"Hey, Wahi, this is a joke…right?"

"Right?"

"Not the kanmusu, the ships! Look!"

"Where?"

"Poiii~!" A destroyer howled in greeting to her brown-haired friend. The two abyssals instinctively covered their ears.

"That damn destroyer…"

"I know," the submarine hissed. "If I ever face Yūdachi in battle I'll treat her to a 533 cm torpedo to the face. But focus on what I asked you to!"

"Those are just amphibious vessels."

"Yeah, and what are amphibious vessels used for?"

"Wahi, we mobilize transport ships around the Pacific all the time. Does that mean we're invading the entire ocean all at once? No!"

"Then what about the other ships _behind_ them?"

"You mean the—" Hawk gulped, "three destroyers, two attack submarines, and –" Wahi waved to silence her.

"You got the point. That's not even accounting for the alleged 'missile cruiser' spotted near Sasebo earlier this morning."

"Or the ships in battle-ready condition within the harbor."

"So the retreat was in fact a gathering, wasn't it…" the submarine's voice trailed off, deep in thought.

"How much diesel do you think the Japanese need to sortie a fleet that large?"

"Far larger than anticipated resources should allow. Unless…"

"Save your musings for later. We have to warn the others about this unforeseen turn of events as soon as possible."

"Can your fighters fly that far though?"

"They _have_ to." She hastily tore off one of her sleeves and compacted it to the point it resembled a cigarette, then unfolded it.

 _Admiral:_ she began.

No, that was too long, and too risky. What had Eagle warned her about the limits of homing birds?

That's right, they could be intercepted. Her dear sister had recommended that she adopt some sort of code, or short-hand slang if she wasn't creative enough, to avoid handing the enemy free information.

 _Cr._

 _SNAP!_

Wahi rolled her eyes at Hawk's repeated glances between her and the broken pen.

"Don't look at me, I don't carry ink around. I'm not a secretary, you know."

"Then this will have to do."

She bit down on her forearm hard until a familiar oily, tarlike bile oozed out, and then let it accumulate in her open palm. Once her right hand resembled a sickly pool, the abyssal licked her left index finger and lathered it in her saliva.

Then, she began to finish her message.

 _Cr._

 _Sd es._

 _Ds, sn. Ss, do._

 _Be ry._

 _Re ct st._

 _Hk._

Satisfied, the abyssal snugly rolled it into the plane's waiting talons and released it.

"Fly away, my creature, fly away," Hawk whispered as the seagull soared to do its mistress's bidding.

* * *

"Abyssal!" One of the steel destroyers yelped, fearfully tilting her five inch gun skyward as a white bird flew high into the air.

"Stand down," Nachi sighed, smacking her face. "It's just a bird. You know, the things your sailors and us kanmusu like to feed?"

"Oh." The missile destroyer's spirit looked sheepishly at the Myōkō-class cruiser, then back at her puzzled human personnel, and finally tried to disappear into her hull.

"What's with everyone being on edge today?" Nachi grumbled.


	19. Dreams and Nightmares: Resistance

**A/N:** I decided that I'll post the most recent 3 chapters altogether in on bloc. Part 7 will be posted tomorrow or sometime this weekend so that we're all caught up with the original thread.

* * *

 _This is Loonnnndoonnnn, with the ABN!_

 _The weather here is fair, with a chance for cloudy skies and storms later this evening._

 _The seas are stormy and rough. Stay in port if possible!_

 _And now for some personal messages:_

 _"_ _Mud is the Frenchman's Waterloo. A Stalin with a Goatee is Fascism. Welshmen make bad painters. The Fox Eats Hounds For Breakfast."_

"What?!"

"Did she just say-"

"Maybe we misheard," Second answered unassuringly as she leaned in towards the radio.

 _"_ _Again: The Fox Eats Hounds For Breakfast. That is all for today. Good Night."_

"Impossible," a white-faced abyssal croaked in disbelief, paying little attention to the blood streaming down her face.

"How?" demanded Third, looking at her colleagues to her left and right.

"Where's Admiral?" shouted a black-haired battleship.

"I don't know!"

"She's in her chambers meditating."

"Someone tell Admiral AT ONCE!"

"I'll get her!" Second immediately broke into a sprint down the decayed hallway that linked the fleet with HQ.

* * *

 _Day 10._

 _She had been in these fields for more than a week now._

 _It had been a rather sudden and unexpected change. For as long as she could remember her world was lined with concrete or the blue seas on which she roamed aimlessly, doing her superior's bidding. Land was a foreign place that she did not belong._

 _For some reason though, she didn't feel uncomfortable. The grass was really soft and cozy, and the sunlight was extremely relaxing._

 _She just wished she had some company to share the view with._

"Would you care to join us?"

She turned around and nearly jumped in surprise.

There before her was a massive table filled with pastries, meats, drinks, and best of all sweets. At the head of the table was a woman in an elegant ball gown, her bright hair done in some sort of elegant coiffure.

The woman twirled her parasol about and gazed at her intently. "The sun's rather bright today, no?" she winked.

"Hey, Ōnami!" A familiar brown-haired girl waved in greeting from her seat at the feast. "Want to join in?"

The destroyer turned to the host. "May I?"

"Of course!" she chirped. "Try the pig, it's my treat!"

Ōnami immediately sat down beside her old friend. "So you've been here too, Amagiri?" she questioned between helpings.

"Yeah. I guess you don't happen to remember how you got here either?"

"Sadly no."

"Is something the matter?" Amagiri asked worriedly as Ōnami suddenly clutched her head.

"I just had the feeling that I was about to explode into little shreds," she groaned.

"I wonder if there's any reason why I'm handicapped too," Amagiri mused as she patted her limp legs. "It took me forever to move about with these things."

The Takanami-class Destroyer was about to reply when she caught sight of two smaller girls on the opposite of the table, deeply engaged in conversation.

"Who are they?" she whispered.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Give me your best shot."

"The girl in the apron and long sleeves is Ōnami, and the other in a sailor fuku is Amagiri."

"You mean they're-"

"Our predecessors? Yes. I don't know how they know our hostess though."

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that she's invited four guests who share two names to sit at one meal?"

"It might be a coincidence. They have no idea who we are, and vice versa. But that's not what bothers me. Ōnami, do you have that strange feeling in your chest, like you have unfinished business?"

"Yes…but what?"

"Is something the matter?" the woman interrupted apologetically, placing her head thoughtfully over her hands.

Ōnami and Amagiri looked at each other and shrugged.

"Actually, yes. You wouldn't happen to know where are, do you?"

A playful grin spread over her face.

"You mean this place?" she stretched her arms out wide. "Why, it's Paradise."

"Do you happen to be a leader of this 'Paradise'?"

"Of course not. Paradise doesn't have leaders. It channels your heart's content and rings true."

"Even if tells us that we shouldn't be here?"

"Oh," the woman glanced down coyly, "I wouldn't know too much about that."

"It's a gut-wrenching sensation, to be honest. Like an unanswered call to battle. A job left unfinished."

"I see," she replied, furtively concealing her smirk behind her gloved hand.

"A pity there's no way to go back."

"Admiral."

The four destroyers shrieked and flew out of their seats as a bloodied knight in a rusted pronged helm and tattered tabard appeared behind their benefactor. The bluish outline of an officer's jacket was faintly visible underneath her medieval outfit.

"No worries," the woman chuckled, "she's a friend. Meet my second in command. We call her Second for short."

"At your service," Second bowed.

"I was just having a nice chit-chat with some visitors to our little picnic," Admiral explained. "Care to join us?"

"Actually," Second whispered something into her superior's ear.

"You don't say," the woman murmured. "Excuse me, but I have somewhere to be now. I hope we will have an opportunity to talk in the future, yes?"

* * *

"Are you positive that London said-"

"She repeated herself several times and everyone on base heard it. We're extremely sure," Second replied as they hurried through the hallway. "Sorry for cutting your summoning short."

"I almost had them," she frowned. "If only I had a little more time…why is it that whenever we enjoy a crushing victory that our allies botch things up?"

The two abyssals opened the door to the headquarters' meeting room and were immediately greeted by a deluge of concerned remarks from everyone inside.

"QUIET!" Admiral shouted as she fired off one of her guns. "Second just told me about London's coded message."

"It's bad news," a tall abyssal replied. "We just got confirmation from our allies in the Mediterranean. They got the fleet hiding at the Shetland Islands."

"Knight's division. Damn," she swore. "She was so close to putting the finishing touches on her attack plan against the Royal Navy's base at Scapa Flow, too. I thought she was stealthier than that."

"A sting operation," Third frowned. "Apparently the important convoy they attacked last week was a ruse. They calculated the time and nature of Knight's attack to sniff out her hiding spot."

Admiral remained silent.

"We have the British code deciphered, right?"

"Of course," Second replied, quickly flipping through her pocketbook.

"The false convoy didn't happen to have a 17 in its name, did it?"

"It did. Why?"

"Well played," she muttered. "They tricked her into thinking it was a repeat of Convoy PQ 17. Were there any survivors of the Navy's attack?"

"A handful of destroyers and cruisers are going to regroup off Iceland, but Knight herself is unaccounted for. The numbers might improve as her forces rematerialize over the next few weeks. No way she'll get back her veterans, though. They definitely got her crack battleship divisions; they might even be in humanity's hands now."

"But what does this mean for us?" A destroyer demanded fearfully.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Nothing?" A Wo-class carrier sputtered.

"I confess that this will be a slight, and rather unforeseen, setback for our cause. Knight was a noble ally and a major thorn in the Anglo-French Navies' sides; eliminating her frees them momentarily to aid their comrades elsewhere. However, we must have confidence in our allies' abilities. Fredericka has done a good job choking supply lines passing through the Baltic Sea as well as harassing ship girl patrols. She is rather…familiar with the region, and I doubt that even the entire might of the Royal Navy could catch her in the sea's current icy state. Wolfe has also forced enemy submarines into a stalemate: the ship girls frequently sink our transports and convoys into the region, but they cannot guarantee the safety of human shipping through the Atlantic. At best, the RN can sneak out a small convoy through; anything larger risks swinging the pendulum in her favor."

"What about the Mediterranean?"

"I have word that we have a pleasant little surprise in store for them," Admiral dismissed with a wave of her hand. "The Black Sea Fleet is also willing to break through the Bosporus Strait. I assure you with my entire authority that our position has not changed at all."

* * *

"What do you mean 'she doesn't want to join up with the Combined Fleet off the Balearic Islands?'" She asked incredulously, carefully avoiding betraying her true surprise at the response. The three abyssal officers had returned to their secluded den away from the others when a messenger gave them the bad news.

"The Southern Island Princess explicitly states that she will not commit her forces to any and all operations within the Mediterranean under the banner of the Combined Fleet's Mediterranean Cell."

"She can't ignore the conflict forever…the Italian Navy and Royal Navy are gathering off Sicily. It's literally on her doorstep."

"She doesn't care." Second placed her finger over a paragraph within the transmitted message. "'I have confidence that my battleships, ironclads, battery abyssals, and terrestrial airfields can repel the enemy without additional assistance. I am not concerned with the matters beyond my shores,' she says."

"Her tune will change when she sees marines landing off the shores of the Malta…what about the Abyssal Rock Princess? The ultimatum has to have gone through."

"It has, but her response is as expected," came the gloomy response. "If the 'Young Upstart' believes she can command I, a princess of a thousand battles, from across the globe, then she is completely undeserving of her authority. It should be well known to all abyssals the natural hierarchy of things, which is that provincial princesses know best how to handle local matters."

"And so is why I so _despise_ our so-called allied 'princesses,'" Admiral scowled, pouring herself a drink. "They are perverted, _ill-dressed oafs_ who give abyssals a bad name, who would undress for glory at the rise of a sword but fail to button the soldier's jacket to the beat of the drum. They care little for anyone except themselves, and except _us_ to rush selflessly to their aid when something a drunk man could see in his dreams happens."

Her two colleagues remained respectfully silent.

"Can't they see who the true enemy is?" the abyssal lashed out, causing her cup to spin about like a toy top.

"It's not _us_. It's not _me._ It's humanity. They're a plague on this world, a pest that needs to be wiped off the face of the earth. For what they've done. For what they've done _to_ us. When we attack, they don't roll over. Cut off the head, and the limbs keep punching until the brains return. It has been almost five years since our struggle began, and the light of fear and terror has faded from their eyes to be replaced with revulsion and hatred. Even the most reviled of our foes are capable of putting aside their differences to answer the call to arms against us.

Admiral slowly unclenched her fists from where they had fallen at her sides.

"Yet our might refuses to life up anything more a fat finger in the enemy's general direction. The princesses act like their conquests are forever, that humanity will let them be pried from the hands bloodied with sacrifice without further fuss. I've heard the entire ruddy damn gamut from A to Z on why not to fear ship girls. They are too weak. They are ill-disciplined. They are too few. They indulge themselves in depraved acts, and let their human sensibilities take the better of them. Then how come we are _losing_ in the Mediterranean? 'Oh, don't worry, it's just a fluke, the Italians' miraculous missile ship girls won't do a damn.' And the Abyssal Rock Princess acts as if it's possible, with all the ruckus, to stay _neutral_ in the conflict. What does she think will happen to her when all of this blows over? That the Spaniards and Brits will sit down and dine with her? That they won't parade her around as a prize of war? That they won't do away with her for 'political' or 'strategic' reasons? Everywhere I've gone and went, I've been hamstrung by fools and idiots."

"I can't wait," she smiled evilly, "until the day East Asia and the western coasts of North America are nothing but smoldering ruins, their peoples nothing but a mound of ash, and at _our_ hands. Then we shall see who the _lesser, inexperienced being_ is."

"You speak ill of the princesses," Third stated calmly, "yet who was it who attacked Sasebo during our assault? What about Maizuru? Kure? Sous even tried blockading the Guard District before some aviation cruisers announced their intentions to break through."

"Ōminato does not count. Sous is a friend, a trusted compatriot; I see her not as a princess but as a sister separated across time, a brave warrior who never gives up finding. In fact, I suggested against her assault given how scanty our forces in the Northern Pacific are at present, but that did not shake her determination. If you mean the China Sea Sisters' assault on Maizuru and the Caroline Islands Princesses' joint attack on Sasebo-Kure, that absolutely was not intended as an altruistic gesture. Having a Japanese-American fleet annihilate everything from Hainan to Riau can be incredibly motivating to look across the pond for once. All I did was simply remind them of who's keeping their bellies from rumbling at night."

"But they are still princesses who helped," the little abyssal repeated with increased vigor. "Give them credit where it is due."

"Credit for _what_ exactly?"

"For allowing you an opportunity to execute the mission without a hitch."

"I, Admiral, hereby acknowledge that the Pacific Abyssal Princesses are capable (once in a blue moon) of getting off their stinking fat arses and do abyssalkind a favor. Such as last week. There," she smirked knowingly as Second started laughing, "you happy now?"

"No."

"You're a tough one to please, aren't you Third?" She ruffled the girl's head affectionately.

"Commander!" A thick-jacketed abyssal carrier burst into the room.

"It's from the front lines, an urgent message for you," the Wo-class saluted. "There are additional reports awaiting your review as well, but I think you should read this one first."

"Is there any reason," Admiral began slowly but with clear annoyance, "that this dispatch has been already opened?"

"Apparently it was sent to the Caroline Islands War Princesses first before arriving here."

"The Caroline Island War Princesses? I thought I taught Hawk better than that to forward all messages to me first. Not that the carrier's warnings are easy to decode in any case," she added, sighing at the sight of a few hastily written half characters in that infernal language. "I do wish she took after her sister in that respect. 'Be ry?' What does _that_ mean?"

"My guess," Second chipped in thoughtfully, scratching her chin, "is that she meant _battle ready_. _"_

 _"_ But what on earth could be battle ready? The Japanese? The Kanmusu? The JMSDF? But how on earth could they be ready so soon? Unless…"

"…we didn't actually eliminate the fuel and ammunition reserves," Second finished worriedly.

"Nonsense. You and I saw the explosions from across Tokyo Bay. That was _absolutely_ the caches detonating, no questions asked."

"Reading Hawk's notes again," Third frowned, "it seems that the Japanese have been deploying their regulars as well. If the plan had gone as it should, then they couldn't accomplish such a feat."

"It's easy to misidentify ships," her superior shrugged, "no doubt those were simply auxiliary ships, and in their fright they mistook them for missile destroyers. Besides, so what if they can waste some fuel here and there on a propaganda stunt? It wasn't my intention to disable the JMSDF completely anyway. I bet their battleships and aircraft carriers must be _starving_ from the shortages right now."

"Admiral…you're doing it again," the little girl answered quietly.

"Huh? Doing what?"

"Goalpost shifting. You've been doing it ever since we got back from Tokyo."

"…I don't follow."

"We've been planning this attack for eight _months_. **Eight months.** Even before the Great Distraction at Bikini Atoll, we've been watching and waiting, collecting information on the routes and traffic entering into and out of Tokyo Bay. We knew exactly how the Japanese deployed and received warships and ship girl alike, and where said ships would likely be moored in the case of an aerial attack. We even conducted wargaming simulations of how the JMSDF were likely to respond to incoming air raids or approaching abyssals fleets. Second and I went through hundreds-no, _thousands_ \- of transmissions between the 7th Fleet, the United States, and the Diet, trying to decode and assess the American's probable response. Every warship, every shipgirl's last known location was marked and kept. We knew the USN's position possibly even better than the Secretary of the Navy, or whatever what's succeeded the position. From the start this never should have been a battle but a steamrolling, face-in-the-ground curbstomp. Thanks to Eagle's avian scouting in the days and hours leading up to the assault, we knew by heart that the Japanese would play it incredibly defensively, even with the formidable manpower on their hands, since we had the expendable aerial superiority."

"Yet, you didn't push our advantage," Third continued softly, refusing to let her Admiral speak. "Originally you planned firebombing the entire capital, wreaking so much havoc that the city would manifest itself as the Imperial Island Princess from grief, but then that changed to attacking the standing JMSDF fleet so that we could try summoning the entire Yokosuka sub-group of their navy. We had a clear shot two days before our actual assault at doing so as the Japanese assembled the combined fleet, but you refused—"

"Because we didn't have the manpower for an all-out assault. This isn't the time for a Decisive Battle, Third!" Admiral was nearly shouting out. "We didn't have the numbers, we needed the element of surprise on our side. You want to face a horde of kanmusu, then be my guest!"

"The kanmusu are not a concern if you know how to worry them," the little girl retorted with a violent hiss. "Remember the old saying, 'Kill the Chicken to Scare the Monkey?' All we needed to do was capture a handful of destroyers, _an opportunity might I remind you was offered to us on a literal platter as those Ayanami sub-class stared at our incoming aircraft like stupefied idiots,_ and hand them over to Poet. You saw how much grief they were filled with when Pugilist dropped her load on that ancient dreadnought, imagine their agony at losing their _precious little girls_. But you thought it was cute seeing their terrified faces and flank-speed flight, and said 'don't worry about them.' And then there's the Americans. We could have stamped out the Seventh Fleet, a fleet that has become a symbol of hope in the United States for their experience and endurance in spite of this war, and sent their admiral, a man who is _well versed in human versus abyssal combat_ , packing in disgrace. Yet you let him live, even as the entire fleet stalled in a distracted disarray when a lucky bomb hit disabled one of their destroyers."

"Has it not occurred to you that such _may be_ the case? There's a major uproar in the American capital over his handling of the fleet, and some are speculating that he'll be recalled to the continent. The Diet is in disarray, the Japanese politicians are squabbling like the Americans are, and very soon we might have fingers pointed and harsh words said over who is to blame for the miscommunications _._ "

" _Might_ is not _certain_. Didn't you utter those very words to me when I first began my studies under your tutelage? If you can't see that you are not infalliable, commander, then I—"

"Enough, you two," Second cut in, gently separating her two friends moments before they came to blows. "It's true that the operation has not gone to plan—"

"How could you betray me so," Admiral choked with unrestrained fury. "I've been around longer than _any_ of you have. I've seen princesses rise and fall. I was there when there was still a Pacific War Princess and she tried to eradicate all of East Asia from the face of this earth, but failed horribly. I taught warriors such as the Anti-Aircraft Hime as affectionately and as closely as I have taught you _both_ , and look how much damage she inflicted before she went down fighting."

" ** _But_** **,"** the abyssal cruiser continued firmly, giving Third a hard glance, "there is no denying that humanity has been set back by the operation. Hawk's report is the _only_ report confirming that there are serviceable Japanese ships as of now. The Kantō region is rationing its supplies, and the Prime Minister's popularity has fallen. Kure, Maizuru, and Yokosuka still seem to be reeling from the blow. Japan has clearly been forced to desist its attacks for the moment, and if we can do the same for the United States then we can focus our attempts elsewhere such as Taiwan and the Phillipines. Those island nations have resisted us on and off for far too long."

"I agree with your opinion, Second, even if I personally believe it is clouded by your reluctance to state frankly your concerns. But I beg you, convince Admiral that she is _not_ a flawless mistress of the seas. I know we want to be free at last, but she cannot win this war with her wits alone. She _needs_ the princesses to cooperate with her if we want to stand a chance against the incoming tide."

"Or what?"

"You know what I'll do, Admiral…"

" _Fine._ I'll…I'll…"

Third looked at her expectantly.

"I'll do it…" the abyssal replied with grit teeth. "We'll make a coalition, and focus on stunting the Japanese recovery effort long enough for us to deal with the Americans. We cannot afford to fight a war on two fronts, so we will need to get it into our eastern Pacific friends' heads that they need to lay off the slug fest and harassing they've been doing on Hawaii and the West Coast. The moment they shed blood on American soil, we're finished."

"You might find that easier than you expect, commander," Second smiled in encouragement. "Tory and the others are eager to return home to see their mother. And then there's this," she held up an intricately-decorated piece of paper adorned with crisp, neat handwriting.

"Is that…"

"Yes. She wants an audience. With us. You know what that means."

"It's Christmas." She grinned with glee. "Oh, happy day! If only the others were so easy to convince to lend us their ears and follow our recommendations…"

"I know. Especially _them_ ," Second looked at her worriedly.

"That's a worry for another time," came the carefree retort. "Let me bask in this small victory. We can move mountains after we've moved hills."

"If you consider that a victory, then you'll like this message."

Admiral snatched the folded piece of paper and gave a genuine smile in relief.

"Third…forgive me for my anger earlier…this letter…it's really good news at last," she sighed happily.

 _Admiral:_

 _Forgive me for keeping my letter short. The damned Frogs almost got me en route to Africa, and I can't risk being seen in the search for one of our allied mail ships. I think the MN despises my code name far more than I can possibly imagine, so we'll need to come up with another alias if I make additional trips._

 _I haven't forgotten the purpose of my mission though. The Mediterranean is living hell for our forces there, but I'll be damned if we let those depraved fools beat us._

 _Sorry, I digress. Fredericka gave me them, and I was able to break out shortly afterwards thanks to Knight (do send her my compliments if you have the time, her escorts are top-notch)._

 _I hope your attack on Tokyo was a crushing victory. I_ _ **despise**_ _that city._

 _Poet_

* * *

 **A/N:** If it wasn't clear from the passage Admiral was expecting the princesses in the Mediterranean to stand up and join the counterattack against humanity. That ended up not happening.


	20. Dreams and Nightmares: Change

**A/N:** With this update we are all caught up with the original thread. Note that this chapter is divided into **three FF parts/chapters.** I will continue to try and post at least twice a week (no guarantees, already falling short for this week) schedule permitting.

We're also getting closer and closer to Mikasa's first sortie...

* * *

"Different settings, different ranges," Akatsuki muttered to herself. "Different settings, different ranges. Slower settings stray less often from their targets, but naturally mean that the enemy has more time to make evasive maneuvers."

"The difference between Type 93 Model 1's and Models 2's is…I know this!...It's…It's…" she impatiently snapped her fingers in annoyance.

"Do you need more time memorizing or do you want me to go over it now?" Mikasa inquired, looking up from the destroyer's copy of _The Way of the Destroyer, 3rd Edition_ that she had been studying.

"Awawah, I need to keep reviewing!" The purple-haired girl wailed, rolling about the tile floor in frustration. "I'm not ready for the examinations yet! Mama thinks I can qualify for a remodel later this year, but everything is so constipated—"

" _Complicated_."

 _"Y_ -yeah, that word. See? Even my vocabulary is bad!"

"To be fair," the pre-dreadnought leafed through the thousand-page manual, "this is a lot of material to be tested on. Do you really need to know _everything_ in this thing?"

"No, but the Myōkō sisters are really big on torpedo usage. Back when they used to give class-wide courses, Yūdachi-chan got in big trouble for not knowing how oxygen torpedoes worked."

"I see…" Mikasa watched as Akatsuki swiped a sweaty hand for her little cheat-sheet and frantically began another cram session. "Well, take your time. I'm learning a lot about kanmusu tactics from your massive textbook."

"You mean you'll keep helping me? Thank you so much, Mikasa-san!"

The battleship merely nodded in response and resumed reading about this strange and unusual equipment called "riggings," as her battle gear was apparently called.

 _Riggings are the amalgamations of a warship's complete armament (anti-aircraft, anti-surface, torpedoes, aviation craft, etc.) that deploy upon encountering the enemy or at the ship's command if need be. Do not let their miniature size deceive you; they are capable of delivering volleys as powerful as one could historically deliver in her steel hull form._

 _Note that riggings tend to follow a roughly "modular" design; that is to say equipment and armaments can be easily exchanged for other weaponry prior to sortieing. For example, it is possible to equip a battleship with destroyer-caliber guns* without requiring extensive time in the docks. This also means that sustained damage during battle can be easily isolated and fixed by damage-control crews._

 _Be warned that this can have unexpected consequences; it is not uncommon for turrets, seaplanes, and torpedo tubes to fall into the ocean if critical damage is received._

 _*Note that there are limitations to this interchangeability. Destroyers are_ ** _strongly_** _discouraged from refitting themselves with cannons above the 8"/203mm caliber for safety reasons and practicality. Likewise, battleships cannot turn themselves into aircraft carriers by sortieing with fighters and bombers; the rigging possesses physical constraints that must be considered._

 _As of the Third Edition of this manual, riggings can be classified into four broad categories:_

 **BANG!**

"Sorry," Akashi grimaced apologetically as her fairies scurried clear of the debris from various machinery. "Stirling boilers are a pain to dismantle and reassemble."

"They used to be used in land-based power plants, weren't they?"

"Yeah. These things are _huge_ , and what you're seeing is after my workers have already disassembled and reassembled them _three times_."

"Fairy magic never ceases to amaze me," Mikasa stared in disbelief as a gargantuan mass of coils and tubes shrank to the size of straws before her eyes.

"It's one of those things in life that you should never try wrapping your head around. Like where do the barnacles go after defouling?"

"…where _do_ they go?"

"Mikasa! Remember what I just said? Don't think about it."

"Not like I can think up the correct answer," Mikasa shrugged. "Do you need a hand with that?"

"I can handle this! Besides, I need to evaluate if this old stuff is even usable. Some of these Oerlikons have clearly seen better days…"

"I hope my modernization isn't giving you all too much trouble," the pocket battleship curled her fingers nervously.

"Nah. Go back to whatever you're reading."

"It's Akatsuki's exam booklet. Apparently we get evaluated before refits?"

" _Usually_ , yes, to make sure that we can make the most of the new stuff outside of situations we've mastered. Oh gods, that's bringing back painful memories," the repair ship shivered.

"They're that hard?"

"For my second refit, I had to give on-the-spot responses on how I would repair or treat a wounded ship girl in hypothetical situations before the entire admiralty. On top of that, foreign ship girls were allowed to attend and grill me with hardball questions if they thought the officers were going easy on me. Akatsuki has it a bit easier; the Myōkō sisters will be the judges on whether they pass or not, so the stakes are much lower."

"And here I'm getting one without all the fuss."

"There _are_ exceptions. If a kanmusu demonstrates exceptional valor or merit in battle, she might get exempted from the requirement. In your case, you _need_ the modernization, no questions asked. The majority of our enemies are designed and experienced in World War I and World War II combat; it would be foolish in that case to keep you in your turn-of-the-century condition."

"I see…"

"Most of our dreadnoughts were in the same situation as you when they first came back, so don't feel that bad. Anyway, what section of the manual were you reading?"

"Riggings."

"Oh, that's a fun topic! Let me know if you have any questions…"

The repair ship's further babblings were drowned out as the black-haired battleship took her words to heart and resumed her studies.

 _As of the Third Edition of this manual, riggings can be classified into four broad categories…_

Following the opening vignette was a neat collection of various ship girls in various positions demonstrating the strengths and weaknesses of their riggings.

The first was of a small brown-haired girl that looked strikingly similar to Inazuma standing awkwardly at the prow of her steel likeness.

 _Type 0: This early-type rigging was the staple of the ship-girl fleet early into the Abyssal War. It is very similar to the arrangement of our previous lives as iron castles of the sea, except that it is possible to materialize said castles at a moment's notice. In the present day, the Type 0 has become a rarity, due to the awkwardness and lack of versatility offered by the rigging._

"So there was a time when riggings were actually our old bodies made portable? That sounds a lot more effective than the miniature guns we carry about now. Imagine deploying it against the…abyssals, for instance."

"No, and that was a long time ago before I came back," Akashi shook her head. "I think the only ones who actually used that were Fubuki, Inazuma, Sazanami, and a few others. The abyssals were actually extremely fond of the design, and apparently that was the form spotted most often before humans knew what exactly abyssals were. Of course, you can see why that fell out of favor. The other Types actually provide the same firepower in a more compact form. It was also a lot harder back then repairing and modifying riggings in their oversized state. The fairies weren't capable of redesigning armaments on that scale so manufacturing companies had to chip in, and you can imagine how expensive that gets just outfitting a small destroyer. For comparison, look at the later Types."

The next three types looked far less practical in Mikasa's opinion, but they were nevertheless clearly more convenient.

The first of the trio had an incredibly feral appearance to it, forming an unkempt array of turrets, mounts, and lifeboats. A sketch of Fusō in action was given as an example of how such a rigging could be used in battle.

 _Type 1: Being the most consistently-performing design in battle, the Type 1 is considered the classic example of ship girl rigging. Its unseemly appearance owes itself to medieval armor-like arrangement; turrets often appear on the sides and shoulders of the ship girl, which provides the user with additional cushioning from non-frontal attacks. The rigging is held in place from behind, which in turn is protected from enemy fire by a set of funnels that form a sashimono-like identification profile. Recently-returned spirits usually have trouble using the Type 1 as it can be rather cumbersome, often requiring aid from other ship girls like attendants or squires of old. While the Types 2 and 3 have since supplanted the Type 1 in the United States Navy and Royal Navy among capital ships, the Type 1 remains the design of choice, especially in the German and Japanese Navies. No doubt the latter two nations' historically intricate armor designs are the deciding factor in their pervasive influence in said navies._

In contrast, the latter two alternatives appeared incredibly light and mobile.

 _Type 2: Developed from the yumi-style designs for Japanese aircraft carriers and fleshed out into an entire separate class for general-purpose use, the Type 2 translates the ship girl's armament into a holdable device, such as nation-appropriate firearms, magical and spiritual items, and even melee weaponry such as lances…_

Perhaps _too_ mobile.

"What on earth?" The battleship murmured as she skimmed the following pages before catching sight of a teenage girl, clearly from the Royal Navy, smugly holding a seven-barreled Nock Gun. "She substituted that _thing_ for her main armament? How did she not blow a hole in her superstructure firing it?"

"That would be Dido back when the light cruisers were crazy about making the switch to something more portable. The picture you see there was taken moments before she _did_ ruin her superstructure firing it, barely avoiding knocking out all of her officers on the bridge with the recoil in the process. There's a reason why the Type 2 never really caught on outside of the battleships and aircraft carriers in the RN and USN. Even though the hangars and turrets are more compact, the rigging is by far more fragile in its simplified state. There was a rather notorious incident a few months back when an American ship girl named Borie got into a scuffle with an abyssal submarine and her pistol-styled 4-inch guns broke. The poor destroyer had to punch the monster to death to get out of that situation."

"I hope that encouraged Dido to discard them completely."

"Well…" Akashi laughed nervously. "Feel free to try and convince her otherwise the next time you're in the United Kingdom."

"You mean she _kept_ them?"

"You haven't seen anything yet. Did you see the Type 3's the British dreadnoughts cooked up?"

"Oh, goodness gracious," Mikasa groaned, burying her face as she turned the page and came face to face with the likeness of a blond-haired battleship shouting orders…from the safety of a chair-like device. "What is the story behind this one?"

"It all started when Repulse and Prince of Wales returned from a goodwill trip to Yokosuka on behalf of all the RN ship girls…"

* * *

 _"Zubian, come quick!"_

 _"Huh, Albatross? What is it?"_

 _"It's Force Z! They've returned, but they've, they've…" she gave a violent shudder and began shivering uncontrollably._

 _"Out with it already, you bloody seaplane tender. I don't have all day."_

 _"It's best if you see…"_

 _"Back, BACK I say!" Nelson roared, shoving onlookers away from the door. "It's too dangerous for any of you to get close. Leave it to me and Rodney!"_

 _"By whose command?" Ark Royal demanded._

 _"Mine," Hood stated bluntly. "I may not have known Prince of Wales for long, but she definitely didn't look like that," she finished, pointing nervously through the window slit in the door where said battleship lay slobbering uncontrollably._

 _"Is it magic?" A destroyer asked timidly._

 _"If it was magic, then that would be easy," Zubian deadpanned. "We could just magick it away."_

 _"Dammit where's Hermione when you need her?" Dorsetshire hissed._

 _"I'm not a witch!" The Dido-class light cruiser snapped._

 _"What is this new nonsense about witchcraft?" A low, cold voice rang out. Everyone turned nervously to face the glowering blonde behind them._

 _"Ah, Warspite," Rodney put her fingers together. "You see, Force Z came back from their tour of Japan, but…there seems to be a slight problem."_

 _"What problem?"_

 _"They seem to be afflicted with an unyielding desire to laze about. It's almost like-"_

 _"Laziness, you say? In_ ** _my_** _Royal Navy? I shall have none of this rubbish. Nelson, step aside."_

 _"But-"_

 _"I said, step aside."_

 _The battleship sent Warspite a final pleading look before reluctantly surrendering the door to her. Without further ado Warspite burst into the room with a swift kick that sent the door creaking on its hinges._

 _Her attention immediately honed in on an old V-class destroyer who was basking in the darkness._

 _"Vampire, get up."_

 _No response._

 _"Get UP."_

 _Vampire rolled over and gave a violent hiss, writhing about aimlessly before retreating under the covers of some mysterious piece of furniture in the center of the room. The head of the dozing Repulse peeking out from the device's extremities greeted her._

 _Warspite shook her head in disbelief and turned her head back to the doorway, where the other girls were looking on anxiously._

 _"Can you believe this rubbish?" She signaled to Hood with her eyebrows._

 _"No. This is nonsense." Hood nonverbally signaled back._

 _"OUT OR DOWN!" Warspite thundered as she punted the girls' haven on its side. A gust of hot wind swept past her as she exposed the forms of the two capital ships and four destroyers who had snuggled up underneath it._

 _"I can't believe it…this is thing you've derelicted your duty for? It's not even a fireplace…"_

 _"…'tatsu…" Prince of Wales mumbled._

 _"Huh?"_

 _"It's a kotatsu," she repeated more clearly, making a…purring? sound as she reversed her engines to wrap herself in its cloth. "Wanna try?"_

 _"Hardly," the Queen-Elizabeth battleship snorted. "Have you bathed recently? Your crew needs to give you a wash. You reek of dead fish, sweat, and God knows what else."_

 _"Gimme five minutes…"_

 _Warspite pulled back a golden lock of hair, shook her head once more, and turned to face the others_

 _"See Dorsetshire? Hermione? Nelson? Rodney? There's no magicking or any other nonsensical happenings that your silly minds contrive—"_

 _"BEHIND YOU!" Hood shouted, frantically waving for her friend to turn around. The ship girls gasped and covered their mouths in horror as at neck-breaking speed Prince of Wales and Repulse sprung off the ground, grabbed Warspite by the ankles, knocked the navy's most decorated ship girl over, and then placed the kotatsu over the three of them. Only a pair of wildly flailing, white stocking-clad legs gave any indication of the duo's premeditated attack._

 _"No…"_

 _The flailing grew weaker and weaker before stopping altogether._

 _"Come on Warspite you old lady, gave them a what for!"_

 _Suddenly Warspite's legs disappeared and her head reappeared, a dreamy expression on her face._

 _"Ah…this is the life…" she cooed._

 _Hell broke out everywhere at once._

 _"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Rodney screamed._

 _"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Nelson screamed._

 _"AHHHHHHHHHH!" The surviving five Queen-Elizabeth class battleships screamed._

 _"Bloody hell, it is contagious!" Albatross yelped._

 _"Contagious or not, we have to rescue Warspite from that…thing," Hood growled. "Everyone, CHARGE!"_

 _A few hours later in a land far, far away…_

 _"Akashi speaking."_

 _"Hey Akashi…did you happen to send an electrical 'kotatsu' over with Force Z by chance?"_

 _"Oh, hi Cossack! Uh…Yes? Oh no, don't tell me that Repulse shortcircuited it!"_

 _"No, nothing like that has happened to it. Yet. I just wanted to know why you sent one over in the first place."_

 _"It was Prince of Wales's idea! As proof of our goodwill we let the girls take home one thing home with them free of charge! I really thought that they were going to go for Hōshō's secret recipes or Akigumo's latest doujin compilation, but then they found it!"_

 _"Well then…"_

 _"Why do I have a bad feeling that you're about to say something terrible?"_

 _"…Admiral Pakenham sends his regards for taking all of his battleships and battlecruisers out of commission."_

 _"You mean…"_

 _"Yep."_

 _"They're all trying to-?"_

 _"Ye~ep."_

 _"But the kotatsu can't hold that many-"_

 _"Yeeee~ep. Have you ever heard of toad stacking, by chance?"_

 _"No?"_

 _"I thought not. It's mostly an Aussie thing from what the Australian ship girls tell me. It's some weird game they play trying to stack toads. Now imagine that, but with battleships and battleships cruisers in a race to see who-can-fit-under-the-kotatsu."_

 _"Oh heavens," Akashi groaned. "It seems that a voyage meant to show goodwill between Japan and the United Kingdom has gone south rather quickly."_

 _"Nah, this is hilarious. They're squabbling like chickens for the prime locations. Rodney and Nelson are going 'Big 7' on everyone's rumps. Hood's showing her Scottish side by royally ko'ing anyone who tries to unseat her. And now Ark Royal-oh gods, this is hilarious-Ark Royal tried to rescue Hood but then got thrown across the room where Warspite caught her and introduced her into the 'kotatsu club,' so now there's an aircraft carrier fighting among battleships in this musical chair of a charade."_

 _"I'm glad you're taking this well," Akashi swallowed from her end of the phone._

 _"Of course I am. Since everyone's spectating on their little boxing match it means I have all the time and attention to play with Bismarck's pet ca-OW MY FACE! OSCAR, STOP! OW, OWWWWWWWW!"_

 _The next morning…  
_

 _"Hi, this is Akashi! I'm sorry I can't answer the phone right now; the workshop has sites that need to be cleared and equipment needing improving so I'm likely in the middle of something. If you could leave a message at the sound of the beep I'll answer as soon as I can. Thanks! Beeeep!"_

 _"Akashi, this is Zubian."_

 _"Akashi, I'm not dumb, that's not your actual answering machine, answer the telephone dammit!"_

 _"Okay fine, be that way!"_

 _"I hate you so much right now. So very, very much."_

 _"I'm being held at gunpoint by Hood and Warspite right now, both of whom are demanding me to find a way to merge kotatsus with their riggings because apparently being Frankenstein's monster makes me the intellectual genius with these kinds of things."_

 _"You don't think I remember the horror stories Dreadnought told us when some girls got ahold of one of those things during the Japan-British Exhibition back in 1910?"_

 _"Jimminy Cricket do you know how scary British battleships get when they're mad? Their eyes are devouring my soul alive. They want to be Queens of the Sea atop their moving thrones, and they want them NOW."_

 _"Is Kongō like this? Is Mikasa like this?"_

 _"Actually, don't answer that question. I'm drinking a Barrovian beer right now and the last thing I want to think about are British battleships."_

 _"The next time we meet, Akashi, I am going to flay you alive for this!"_

* * *

"They're actually pretty well-built and reliable. When Warspite visited Japan on official visit she started a craze among the kanmusu for sedentary riggings. The only reason they haven't really caught on here is because Goto and some other naval officers protested about the construction costs and the possibility that the Type 3 might encourage laziness."

"So they constructed self-warming chairs that can also fire large-caliber guns at the wave of a hand or the push of a button, all because of a kotatsu? A house-warming device? The British are all madwomen!"

"Says the Barrovian battleship."

"I'm not _that_ insane!"

"That's _slightly_ encouraging…"

"I mean, sure kotatsu are comfortable cozy things I wouldn't mind dozing off in, but I'm not about to lose my mind over one. Oh, I know why! It's because of the South! Ships built in southern England always turn out peculiar."

"Hood was built in Scotland, and the RN ship girls were posted in the north when the incident happened…"

"Then it must be the 1920's and 1930's. If modern fashion sensibilities are any indication, everyone went mental before a bunch of glorified idiots gave them a cause to be mental. Don't worry Akatsuki, you look respectable," Mikasa added as the special type destroyer looked up in alarm. "Keep on studying," she said encouragingly.

"Make that the 1940's, or the late war and post war ship girls at least," Lieutenant Tōgō ranted as she watched a group of fairies take a break from repairing a 12"/50 gun. "I wish the abyssals hadn't ruined Alaska's spare barrels kept in Kure, because now you have to use Guam's old ones from when she had to undergo an emergency overhaul for a burst boiler. Guam's nothing like her older sister; she's very aggressive in battle even when she can afford to conserve energy and ammunition. She didn't have this set of barrels for long when she had her emergency, but they already need to be relined since the rifling's quite worn out."

"Guam was never happy about the fact some officers suggested that she and her sister would be best suited to PR duty after the South Dakota sisters showed up. I think she's worried that they'll be mothballed again for even the slightest mistake, in spite of the fact that the United States needs every ship girl they can get their hands on."

"Well, tell her to take it easy once in a while. That girl's going to strip something worse than a gear if she keeps being so high-strung."

"Is the restoration work on her old barrels feasible at least?"

"Yes. Dunno how long they'll last though. Definitely not the original 344 rounds; that's certain."

"Hey, we have to do with what we have. Goto wouldn't be happy having to send a kanmusu eastward just for the sake of repairs, and the RN ship girls would never let me live making that decision down. Speaking of repairs and refits, Akatsuki, would you mind taking your stuff and waiting outside for a little while? You're in the way in case Lieutenant and I need to move things during Mikasa's operation."

"I would," the little girl gave the pre-dreadnought and Akashi a nod for good luck, "but I'm waiting for my crew to return. It wouldn't be lady-like to leave them behind."

"Ah right, they're chaperoning my seamen since apparently they've never seen an indoor swimming pool in a hospital before and think it's miniature beach," Mikasa pursed her lips. "Well hopefully Captain can—"

"FLEET'S RETURNED!" A fairy crowed as a mob of sailors ran towards the two kanmusu carrying a certain Captain Hikojirō above them.

"We won! We won!" Mikasa's crew chanted as they broke into song and cheered.

"Won?" The battleship raised a bemused eyebrow.

"The destroyer's captain challenged some of the crew to a rowing competition, with the winner being the best out of three rounds," Captain Hikojirō explained as he was put down at last, "and as you can see we emerged victorious from that little race."

"As to be expected of the crew of the fabled battleship," Akatsuki's chief torpedo officer, Michiharu Shinya, bowed concedingly. "Though Ijichi, there's no denying that the third leg was close. Had I had the slightest extra ounce of energy we would have crossed over the finish line first."

"Indeed, but if Saneyuki had participated instead of falling heads over heels in love with a bookstore he and Admiral stumbled upon in one of their 'scouting missions' it would have been no contest."

"Is that an offer for a rematch I hear?"

"If it is, could you all save the revelry for another time?" Akashi interrupted. "Today is Mikasa's big day, and the last thing I need is an excited patient."

"Well then Captain," Shinya saluted, "until our next challenge."

* * *

 _…She succeeded in scoring numerous hits on the escort carrier Gambier Bay as well as the destroyers Hoel and Heermann. At 09:12, she sank the destroyer escort Samuel B. Roberts…_

"That's my girl," Mikasa smiled as she read the blurb on her little protégé's service record. "Make those you are supposed to fear, fear you instead."

The battleship let out a little phooey in disappointment when she discovered that the unshakeable, nigh indesstructible fast battleship had met her end thanks to a well-timed barrage of torpedoes during daybreak.

"That's not fair."

"Reading about how your self-proclaimed 'children' died is absolutely _not_ what I expected you to do when I gave you orders to do something relaxing in preparation for your refit."

"I know, I know," she puckered her lips in agreement. "I was just hoping that, ideological differences aside, that the Kongō sisters would give the Americans a good what-for in their engagements. It's like rooting for a wrestler in a sumo match."

"Well, not to be a bit of a pessimist but if you asked me who did the best out of the four Kongō sisters, it would have to be Kongō herself. Hiei and Kirishima both sank off this island near Australia, called Guadalcanal, during a fierce campaign for the region." Akashi looked away nervously. "You in fact met one of the girls responsible for Hiei's death a few days ago. She wreaked havoc on the fast battleship by closing the distance to the point Hiei couldn't train her guns on her."

"O'Bannon?" Mikasa eyes widened in realization. "She was that gutsy in the War too?"

"That red-haired girl was the USN's most decorated destroyer in the Second World War. The funny thing is that it's not the craziest thing O'Bannon's done; she's danced with death on several other occasions as well, but that's a story for another time. Of course, Taylor and Nicholas weren't slouches either. From what Nagato told me, the three of them were handpicked to escort Missouri into Tokyo Bay at the war's end, since they were one of the few ships to have fought in the Pacific from start to finish."

"I see…"

"…Mikasa?"

"Oh, don't mind me, I was just wondering whether I should congratulate her or try and avenge Hiei's honor for that. In a friendly manner, of course."

"You should probably save your energy for someone else," the repair ship warned. "Hiei got outplayed by some destroyers, but Kirishima," Akashi shook her head. "Oh Kirishima, Kirishima…"

"Let me guess…" Mikasa raised her hand. "She rammed an enemy warship because she was being careless, and then sank from the damage."

"How…nevermind…Would you be horrified if I told you that you were actually close to the truth?"

"You _cannot_ be serious," the pre-dreadnought deadpanned as she fought back the urge to slap her forehead.

"To keep it simple, there was an American battleship that had been disabled right before the Navy's eyes during an intense night battle. Kirishima tunnel-visioned so hard on sinking her that she didn't notice _another_ battleship close to spitting distance, who then reduced Kirishima to matchwood."

"What was Kirishima's destroyer's name?" Mikasa inquired, her face completely unreadable.

"I'm not sure if I want to tell you, since I have a bad feeling you're going to try and kill her with your own two hands."

"I swear I won't."

"Are you _sure?_ "

"I'm _very_ sure."

"Washington. Battleship Washington, the second of her class and fifty-sixth battleship in her nation's navy."

"Excellent, now I know to whom I need to bake some pastries for if I ever visit the United States."

"…what?"

"Akashi, I don't blame you for not knowing this but when Kirishima first entered service she was a bit…clumsy, to put it politely. On one of her first voyages, she had her face punched in after colliding with a destroyer. I always warned her to be more careful, but she never seemed to take my advice seriously. It was…relieving, to say the least, when she appeared to have finally taken my cautionary tale to heart. Besides, considering that Kirishima's still alive and it hasn't seen to have traumatized her too badly, there's no point in holding a grudge against Washington is there?"

"That's one way of looking at it I suppose."

"What about Haruna?"

"Ah, Haruna, the poor girl. She lived the longest out of the four sisters, and fought hard all the way until the end. Haruna doesn't remember the final days of the war that well as she was mortally wounded a few days before the Americans bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but she clung around long enough for the Japanese to refloat her and then break her up after the war."

"Oh…" Mikasa said softly.

"Let's talk about something else!" Akashi said quickly, swiftly tossing a random book she had sitting about the hospital-room-turned-work-station. "Read this."

"You just happened to have a book with the _technical schematics of every single warship that fought in the Pacific theatre of World War II_ just lying around?"

"Er, well," Lieutenant Tōgō raised a helping hand. "Akashi and I weren't sure if there was something else that needed fixing or updating to World War II standards while we were at it. For some reason I keep having the feeling that I've overlooked something really important in your refit plans."

"Did you check the horsepower calculations?" The repair ship inquired.

"Yes, the new powerplant seems right…."

"Has Yūbari looked at it?"

"She gave me the thumbs up, but the experimental cruiser was in the middle of Krupp test so…"

"I can't help but have the feeling that something's _still_ off…"

"I'll check it again…"

"My oh my, Lieutenant, are you out of bed _again_?" A low, amused voice interrupted behind them. Jukeini jumped and let out a loud eek before trying to slink back under the cotton covers behind her. Unfortunately for the young officer, a certain admiral and fast battleship had already beaten her to the punch.

"There's no use hiding, Lieutenant, the staff downstairs told me everything about your 'advance warning system,'" Goto began, his cheeks wrinkled from trying to hold back his laughter. "Kongō and I just wanted to make sure that the additional underreported materials were going to be put to good use."

It was Akashi's turn to be embarrassed.

"Ah, Admiral!" Her face flushed slightly. "I meant to uh, tell you afterwards, but the fairies needed a few more steel pipes and such than they initially estimated." The admiral held up a polite hand to silence her.

"No need to explain," he chuckled as Kongō locked her arm with his. "Just make sure Mikasa's splendid once she's complete, or you'll have to answer to _her_."

"He's been in a good mood lately, hasn't he?" Mikasa mouthed to her fellow Vickers shipmate.

"YES!" She happily wiggled back in reply. "Something in the JSDF happened that's lifted the weight off his shoulders, so he has time to actually enjoy himself in spite of all the business."

"Are you certain that nothing bad has happened? You haven't scalded him or anything in your latest 'burning love' attempt have you?"

"Nope! In fact he told me he'll still be around no matter what happens!"

"Don't run off with him now, I taught you better than that. Besides," Mikasa gave her friend an evil smirk, "What's a proper wedding without a mother's sendoff?"

Kongō rolled her eyes at that statement.

"Hey Mikasa, what are you smiling at? Get back here, we're all set to begin work! Admiral, Kongō, that means I must also respectfully kick you out."


	21. Dreams and Nightmares: Never the Same

Full Title: "Never the Same Again"

* * *

 **A/N:** With this update we are all caught up with the original thread. Note that this chapter is divided into **three FF parts/chapters** (this is part 2/3).I will continue to try and post at least twice a week (no guarantees, already falling short for this week) schedule permitting.

* * *

"Might I state that I am not very fond of torches?" Mikasa glanced warily at the instrument near the repair ship's finger tips.

"To install modern equipment, I have to cut you open to take the old stuff out first," the repair ship stated firmly.

"And there's no way you can get that out by other means?"

"I believe some British repair ships tried giving stubborn destroyers 'regurgitating toffees' so that their innards became outtards, but they weren't very effective at coughing up the important stuff."

"In other words, no," Jukeini replied. "I know this doesn't bring back pleasant memories for you seeing that torches were no doubt used in killing a lot of your old companions, but I promise that we aren't going to scrap you."

"I'm going to be frank; I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you were conducting the operation. No offense, Akashi."

"As much as I would be honored to lead the operation I cannot," the lieutenant shook her head. "Her crew is as much involved in the modernization process as she is, and as a human I can't communicate with them. I have faith in Akashi's abilities."

"If it makes you feel better, Mikasa, Asahi taught me during the War. The Japanese converted her into a repair ship long before I was laid down."

"Ah," Mikasa smiled warmly in return. "That indeed does wonders for my woes. Was that girl still a hopeless romantic?"

* * *

 _"Sometimes I wish I was posted down here forever."_

 _"It is nicer down here."_

 _"I don't mean the weather," Asahi snorted. "I mean the fleet."_

 _"Wasn't Northern China pleasant though? The Americans are only a stone's throw away these waters, so we have to be constantly vigilant of submarine attacks and the like."_

 _"Exactly. You all have the fighting spirit and the will to honor this country. In Shanghai, not so much. Here I see warriors like Ashigara, whose eyes burn brightly to honor the will of the emperor and be worthy of her name. In China," she laughed hollowly. "They're all cowards. I ran into Nachi shortly before heading here. When I confronted her about her alcoholism, she claimed that she needs to drink sake all the time 'to stamp out the memories.' What memories? Apparently defending Japanese nationals back in '32 is something to be ashamed of. Kaga and Akagi were the same way. Anyhow, enough chitchat."_

 _Asahi patted Akashi before giving her a demonic grin in parting._

 _"Put your heart and mind into tending to our wounded. Let us show those savages the wrath of a country made mockery of for thirty years!"_

* * *

"No." Akashi looked away sadly. "You wouldn't have recognized her."

* * *

 _"There are rumors going around, mere hearsay at the moment, that we will be launching a surprise attack on the Americans soon."_

 _"Excellent!"_

 _Akashi looked startled at her remark._

 _"I suppose it's only natural, seeing that the embargoes have forced our hand, but supposedly Akagi's old commander-" A hand to the face silenced her._

 _"Stop right there. You've said enough."_

 _"But it's supposed to be a surprise attack! A complete ambush!"_

 _"Have you forgotten about my experiences at a place called Port Arthur, Akashi? Perhaps we'll even do it right this time…"_

 _"But this will be with aircraft carriers. Several aircraft carriers!"_

 _"Your point being?"_

 _"The American fleet won't suspect a thing. It will be a massacre!"_

 _"So you say." Akashi felt a chill run through her as Asahi gazed at her._

 _"Where do your loyalties lie, Akashi? Is it with Japan? Or is it with them? Do you want Japan to be merely a puppet, a plaything to the United States? Oh, perhaps you would like to see them gut our people, who have been left defenseless by spineless cowards such as you? If thousands of Japanese die to an unsuspecting enemy, will you still call it a massacre, or will you agree with the consensus that it was 'a tragedy?' Tell me Akashi," her eyes narrowed to cat-like slits, "Is your heart really with the Emperor? Or have you been corrupted by the illusions of peace and friendship the other powers spout out while they plot and gobble up lesser men? I may not be of Japanese birth, but I'm sure as hell beating you at being one."_

* * *

"She was, like nearly all of us were at the time, blinded."

"By what?"

"By the same thing that caused many of us to have trouble forgiving the American ship girls, and the American ship girls to forgive us."

"If I was still around," Mikasa looked at the repair ship thoughtfully, "maybe I could have—"

"You would have died with us," Akashi shook her head. "The nationalistic fervor was intoxicating and inevitable. Be glad that you slept through it."

"If it was so intoxicating," the battleship retorted suspiciously, "then how come you're on speaking terms with the Americans? The last time I checked, Texas wasn't a Japanese warship."

"That's a long story involving a Yamato-class battleship, an Iowa-class battleship, a typhoon, an abyssal princess, and a legendary Yorktown-class aircraft carrier."

"Should have guessed," the pre-dreadnought rolled her eyes. "The carrier, I mean. Things involving 'Yorktown' always lead to the demise of the United States's enemies everywhere."

"I hate to cut this little conversation short," Lieutenant Tōgō interrupted, "but I'm noticing that Mikasa is trying to chat her way out of getting cut open."

"I should have known to use gunboat diplomacy," said Mikasa rued as she accepted defeat. "You won't stop me next time!" She shook her fist menancingly.

"On the contrary," one of Akashi's fairies grinned triumphantly as he held up a hose, "we can! We have some kanmusu-friendly anesthetics to inject into you, which means you'll stop resisting in 3…2…"

 _Whump._

* * *

"Ah, Admiral Tōgō!" Hikojirō saluted as the elderly man appeared carrying a thick stack of books with his aide in tow. "You just missed the event of your life! One of the yard workers tried to put Mikasa to sleep, but she went berserk on them! It was like watching a rampaging whale revolt against a fleet of fishermen! I think some of them had to crawl inside her and put something in her intake pipes to prevent our good friend from destroying their work stations!"

"Sounds like quite a tale, but it doesn't beat the saga I could tell about rescuing Akiyama from the labyrinth of a book repository," the admiral chuckled. "Every time he passed a bookshelf, he would return with a pile twice his height!"

"Don't forget that half of these are diplomatic treatises that you wanted to lug back here," his strategist huffed merrily.

"Indeed, indeed. So what you and the others been up to then, Captain?"

"Tōgō the Younger was willing to surrender her special telecommunications device for the crew to play with, but after the crew started freaking out about 'moving pictures' she opened up an…'app' is what I believe she called it so they could watch a long one. As in a few hour-length picture."

"And that did not interest you, Ijichi? You passed away shortly before they started to become popular."

"I watched some of the early productions with the crew. One of the Anglophiles aboard suggested Charlie Chaplin, and I thought he was pretty entertaining to watch. Omura and few others weren't happy about the crew watching foreign productions though, so after a few skits they switched to a Japanese film. It was about some sea monster that attacks Japan...Mozzarella I believe the film was called."

"Japan falls under attack by a _type of cheese_?"

"Like I said Saneyuki, I wasn't too interested in the premise so I started watching what the workers are doing to get Mikasa in battle-condition. And I think I made the right choice," Hikojirō added as he jerked his head back to where the remainder of the crew lay, wide-eyed as the abomination wreaked havoc on Tokyo. The fairies gasped as it unexpectedly turned about and seemed to be shooting flames at the audience, causing some of them to unload their rifles at the screen.

"Well, that they're scared out of their wits over some fantasy creature is good for me, because feast your eyes on this!" The strategist eagerly dug through his stashed horde and produced a thick blue volume emblazoned with the words _Staying Alive: How to not Sink in Battle_.

Captain Hikojirō laughed at the title.

"Saneyuki, I know you're pretty fond of the United States and everything, but don't you think reading their manuals as if it's a holy text is taking it too far?"

"It's not just any American writing the book, read the author's text!"

"A ship wrote this…" Admiral Tōgō murmured with interest.

"That just makes it more unreliable," Hikojirō shrugged. "If it was endorsed by an official or admiral, I might be willing to—"

"It is, and it was also edited by one of ours! See? _Written by Enterprise (CV-6). Editor's note by Taihō. Approved by Admiral Caldwell, Jr._ "

"What makes this 'Enterprise' so special though?"

"From what I've read so far, she became _the_ symbol of damage control in a war against us (no, I don't know what conflict she's talking about yet so don't ask me) after sustaining fatal attacks and somehow surviving them. She got so good at it that apparently she gained the moniker 'the Gray Ghost' for it."

"If you ask me personally it sounds less like she could withstand the impossible and more like the IJN became shoddy at finishing the job," Hikojirō chuckled.

"Taihō refutes that by pointing out instances where American ships _were_ sunk due to the crew's inexperience, such as Lexington, Wasp, and Astoria. The key to Enterprise's survival appears to be organization, discipline, and having the proper machinery."

"As if the Imperial Japanese Navy was lacking in any of those fields."

"Listen, Captain," Akiyama replied as he neatly snapped the book shut. "This isn't a case of 'America is the best country to bless this earth so we should do whatever they say' or anything like that. Whatever the United States did in their war against us, it proved effective and we should be willing to consider it. Remember when the war against China revealed flaws in the _Jeuene_ _École_ philosophy? We didn't scoff at the British and hold fast to Bertin's beliefs. No, we readily used the reparation money from the Chinese to build eight battleships, one of which not only made Japan a nation but is also the very vessel we are all serving on. That the Americans fought and won a war against us is irrelevant; they're clearly open to assisting us however they can, and we should make the most of it. Nearly forty years before the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, the British bombarded Kagoshima into dust. I am sure you and Admiral remember that very well, seeing as you both are Satsuma men."

Hikojirō exchanged an uncertain glance with Tōgō Heihachiro.

"He's right," Tōgō the elder hmmed. "If yesterday's enemies have become today's friends, we shouldn't dwell too much on the past. The Chōshu certainly didn't when they agreed to an alliance with us against the Bakufu. That said Saneyuki, hand me the book over there about the Pacific War. If there's anything disturbing that happened in that conflict, it is best that the three of us find out about it first. There are some who will not take defeat very well," he warned as he warily turned his head towards the junior officers.

"Hold on…Commander…you don't seem very surprised that we went to war against the Americans, are you?" Akiyama said worriedly. "What happened after the Great War?"

Admiral Tōgō glanced out the window, a distant look in his eyes.

"I didn't live to see what happened, but before I died I thought hell was about to boil over..."

* * *

"This is pretty heavy material to read through," Hikojirō yawned after skimming a chapter about the League of Nations. "How many more years passed between the foundation of this league and the war Saneyuki mentioned?"

"About twenty," Tōgō frowned as he flicked an encyclopedia back a few pages. "The diplomacy is pretty easy to follow, but the politics, not so much."

"Damn," Akiyama burst out suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Apparently," the strategist held up a treatise, "Japan had an opportunity to change the military paradigm, but squandered it. In the opening days of the war, aircraft launched from carriers were used to deadly effect against both British and American battleships; however, the high command continued to stress surface warfare. Therefore, even though we succeeded in surprising the United States Navy and defeated them in the beginning, we fell right into their trap. The Americans and their allies knew how we would try and fight, and denied us any opportunity to execute it until we couldn't at all. I don't understand what those officers were thinking."

"To be fair, I wouldn't expect a warship that only acted as a runway for flying machines to outmatch a ship whose sole purpose is to deliver and receive blows."

"You're oversimplifying the comparison. It's not about the severity but the _versatility_. Imagine being able to control the landing site of shells when you wanted them where you wanted them."

"If that's the case," Hikojirō took a sip of his drink, "then how come aircraft carriers aren't everywhere?"

"I can't answer that question. Resources, perhaps?"

"Perhaps you should look into the reason for that," the captain chuckled. "Don't make sweeping statements before you have the reasoning. Isn't that right, eh, Tōgō?"

"Tōgō?"

The admiral remained deep in thought, his fingers forming an aimless circle over the page he had been reading.

"Akiyama, Hikojirō…how many of our men come from Saga and Hiroshima Prefectures?"

"At least twenty, I'd say. Why, did something happen to those region—" His eyes widened as he saw the subject of the officer's musings.

"Holy…" The captain croaked feebly.

"A dark side to aviation warfare," Akiyama swallowed as he read the article, "is that it renders the recipient completely helpless against the bombardment if the defenses aren't strong enough. Bombs don't discriminate against potential targets. It was like this everywhere, from what I've studied. Tokyo. London. Dresden. Shanghai. Soldier and civilian alike fell to the ordnances."

"What should we tell the men?"

"We don't."

The two officers stared bewilderedly at the admiral.

"Not yet at least. We just got back, and the men are clearly enjoying the modern world and what it has to offer. The bombings were more than seventy years ago; bringing them up now would only lead to unrest. We shouldn't trouble the girls with the prospect of a mutiny; the modern navy has more pressing matters to worry about."

"Yes, but how can we keep this a se-"

"Admiral!"

The three fairies jumped as a worker somersaulted over to them.

"Mikasa's refit is complete. Care to see how it came out before we wake her up?"


	22. Dreams and Nightmares: Something

Full Title: "Something Strange, Something Old, Something Smelly, and Something New"

* * *

 **A/N:** With this update we are all caught up with the original thread. Note that this chapter is divided into **three FF parts/chapters** (this is part 3/3).I will continue to try and post at least twice a week (no guarantees, already falling short for this week) schedule permitting.

* * *

The first thing that stuck out to the senior trio was the noise.

It was endless noise, like a tsunami thundering down the coastal lowlands. But this cacophony of sound was no work of nature, but by a typhoon of sailors and officers giving an almighty hurrah as they eagerly set out to see how their old cramped quarters had changed.

And cramped they were no longer.

"Is it just me, or does Mikasa feel…bigger? As if someone stretched her out a bit?" Akiyama said in wonderment as a bunch of seamen waved at them excitedly from the portholes lining the pre-dreadnought's torso.

"That's because we did," a worker chimed in. "Extended her by a couple o' dozen meters to accommodate her new engines. Gave us some room to work on those corridors and hallways," he shuddered. "I don't know how you men fought in those conditions. I thought I was going to die just walking through them."

"You get used to it after a while," Admiral Tōgō smiled. "It's the comfort, not the space, that you learn to appreciate."

"If that's the case, then I feel better that we didn't make many adjustments to your room. Though, I must ask you three, how do you get used to that little viewing deck?"

"Oh, you mean the stern door," Hikojirō chuckled. "It's actually pretty pleasant on cruises. On days with good weather you can actually watch the sun rise and set."

"Also good for letting ocean breezes in for ventilation," Tōgō added.

"But it's on her _stern_ ," the worker protested bewilderedly. "You know, her aft?"

"We know."

* * *

"What's the commotion about?" The admiral queried as he saw a swath of fairies gathered on her deck and rigging.

"Commander, what on earth is _that_?" Lieutenant Omura demanded, jabbing an angry finger at a large, grill-like device swinging back and forth atop Mikasa's foremast.

"I'm not sure…"

"It looks dangerous! We should remove it at once!"

"Oh, that's radar," Akiyama answered nonchalantly, causing the others to stare at him intently.

"That sounds like an American invention," Omura growled. "What is an American contraption doing on a Japanese ship?"

"Radar was actually developed independently by many nations including Japan, but if I had to say," he paused and hmmed loudly, "this one is likely of Anglo-American origin."

"I knew it! The Americans tricked those workers into putting something utterly useless on one of our ships as a test to see how gullible we are as a nation!"

"Omura, calm down. This is actually a very useful instrument. It allows us to detect enemies that we may be unable to see in poor visibility." There was a chorus of 'ooh's' and 'ah's' at this statement. Even the lieutenant seemed impressed.

"That is what lookouts are for," he protested weakly, "and I won't accept the usefulness of this device until I see it work my own two eyes!"

* * *

"Ah, Admiral, Captain, come in come in!" The communications officer smiled welcomingly as the men entered his little compound. Perhaps coincidentally, a shrill high-pitched sound likewise ended abruptly upon their entry.

"Was that an _opera_ you were just listening to right now?" A passerby, Chief Gunnery Officer Abo, groaned.

"No! Absolutely not! I was just er, testing out the new communications device Akashi's team just installed."

"In what way?" The mustachioed officer demanded.

"I was testing to see if the verbal communications were functional. Radio is pretty useful. See, watch this!"

"HULLOOOOOOO," the officer roared at the device.

"He's been like this ever since he found out that his 'wireless telegraph' got upgraded," Abo muttered through the corners of his mouth.

Tōgō and Hikojirō looked on at the fairy babbling into the radio expectantly. For a moment, the expectable happened: the communications officer yelled, and no one answered him.

An emphasis on the word 'moment.'

"Oh, for crying loud!" Someone immediately blasted back.

"SHUT UP!"

"Oh gods, why is it always the old ships that have giddy men in charge of the radio?"

"Kaga to Mikasa, please desist in your improper use of communication channels."

"Told ya this thing is cool," the communication grinned sheepishly.

* * *

"Enter."

Visiting the hospital room aboard Mikasa had admittedly not been one of the Admiral's most anticipated destinations. Tōgō was not very fond of the place, for it brought back bad memories of losing good men.

At present, the entire ship's complement was in good health, so the surgeon was likely dozing off or admiring improvements elsewhere.

But the medical officer was in fact neither idling about nor absent from his post; instead he was scrutinizing a glass vial.

"Can I help you, Admiral?" He inquired, not once lifting his eyes away from the vial's label.

"I just wanted to see if the modernization affected your work as well."

"Oh, it did," the fairy replied, giving his superior a small smile. "Take a look at this medication. See this powder? That's an antibiotic they discovered in the 40's called penicillin."

"What does it do?"

"It is apparently capable of killing any living germ it comes into contact with. Now, apparently it's not truly 'anti-any-living-germ' as there are other drugs here like 'ampicillin,' but supposedly it's an incredibly potent treatment. Germ theory's gone a long way since when I was in school, so I have some catching up to do," pointing at the clean operating table where some Japanese medical textbooks lay.

"So you mean-?"

"That the days of agony and pain for the men are numbered? It sure looks that way," the surgeon nodded in confirmation. "By the way Admiral, before you leave, would you like a squirt of this?" He held up a bottle of a clear, water-like fluid, which the fairy accepted.

"What is that?" Tōgō flinched as a stinging odor radiated from his soaked hands.

"It's something new they've come up in the past few decades. Supposedly it's waterless soap, and good at keeping the bacteria away, though I'm skeptical of that claim. They call it hand sanitizer."

* * *

"By the Emperor's chrysanthemum throne what is that _smell_?" The chef mumbled through his covered mouth. "It _stinks._ "

"Cleaning solution," Tōgō, waving his offending hands over the nearest sink as a peace offering.

"Nah, if the doctor says you're clean I believe you. Makes me feel better about you being near the fresh fruit too. Or at least the momentarily-fresh fruit."

"No way you could put them in tin cans for preservation?"

"You can, but that's not what I want. There's no refrigeration on this ship," the cook shook his head dejectedly. "I was hoping since the times have changed they would add a reefer section for storage, but it seems not."

"How are the rations looking?"

"On the menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner: nikujaga, nikujaga, and more nikujaga."

"Only nikujaga?" the Admiral raised an amused eyebrow.

"Only nikujaga. At least, in terms of feeding the entire crew. There's a smattering of ingredients lying about the ship's stores to make a rich curry for the officers, but only for one or two occasions. I tried tasting the foodstuffs the Navy gave me in those tin cans for the boys, but they're all bland. Oh, wait, hold on, there is something else! I have a couple hundred cups of dried seaweed in case the men want to make sushi, but…"

"There's no fish or other seafood for it."

"Yeah…fortunately we'll have to put up with the monotony for only a few more days. I don't know what the supply officers were thinking, but we're critically low on food if they're expecting us to make long-distance voyages anywhere anytime soon."

"Perhaps we could take the crew out to a restaurant or something while we're here. "

"An interesting idea! I could see what the trending recipes are and cater to them in the future. However," the chef's shoulders drooped, "the bill for such a venture…"

"Would be astronomically high."

"Yeah," he sighed, "it's more than this bag of salt's weight in gold bullion, or however else I get paid nowadays."

"What bag of salt?" The elderly officer asked confusedly, looking about the kitchen in vain for a sack containing the sea's most bountiful resource.

"The one right behind me. Or at least, what _was_ right behind me. Huh," the fairy scratched his head. "Where could I have placed it…"

Neither of them heard the frantic shuffling of feet, nor saw the mess's doors swing wildly on their frames…

* * *

"Urgh…I feel so tired…" The pre-dreadnought gave an almighty yawn as she scratched her neck and slowly rolled off the table.

"Probably because your firemen aren't accustomed yet to the new boiler-engine-boiler-engine arrangements," a voice called out. "Give them a few minutes to build up your fires."

 _What was she doing again?_

 _Oh, that's right. Boilers._

 ** _Heating up her boilers._**

"Whoa whoa," Tōgō Jukeini stepped in front of Mikasa and frantically flagged her down as the battleship made a break for the nearest mirror, "take it easy."

But Battleship Mikasa, the great warrior of Tsushima and distant sister to the British Formidable-class pre-dreadnoughts, would not take it easy. One did not simply tell a cripple who could now _run_ to sit still. British impassiveness be damned, she would revel in this moment like the day those Vickers workers completed her so long ago.

"Seriously, hold up! At least take a look at your gear before flying off like that!"

She closed her eyes and smiled as a familiar pair of suspenders and sashes wrapped around her form. When her grey ocular sights opened once more, Mikasa nearly forgot to breathe.

"We fixed up your rigging while we were at, so now your crew has an actual open bridge to survey from. It's some strange cross of Type 1 and Type 2 rigging, which means that the extensions merge with your cap quite nicely," Akashi summarized as she flicked a signal lamp until it occluded the wreath-bearing badge. "Nelson would be quite pleased at the semblance between her rigging and yours."

Whoever this 'Nelson' was, the pre-dreadnought knew that the fair comparison was intended as a compliment. Surely the semblance ran deeper than simply sharing a name with the legendary admiral himself.

No doubt it was due to the simplistic, British-like elegance of her modernized armament. True, her 12 inch guns were still 12 inch guns, but now there were neat columns of little guns atop her big guns! Nests of machineguns that seemed to shoot at the heavens, complete with _even_ more rangefinders to help direct and control their fire, peppered the deck. There was also a pair of lasso-like tassets about her hips that allowed her to freely deploy torpedo nets (personally, she was both surprised yet relieved that those unseemly torpedo bulges were not the ultimate solution to the fleet's 'fishing' problem) at will. And on her feet, was that…was that?

"For some reason you still have a naval ram even though they were all removed during your time thanks to Yoshino. Since Akashi and I had no clue what to do with the things, we inserted torpedo tubes into them. Now you can give enemies a pleasant surprise if they want to take a peek at you, but we recommend that you don't let them get _that_ close."

"They're also removable from your shoes in case you don't want them," Akashi added.

But that wasn't the best part. Not only was all of her equipment modern and neatly arranged all about her deck, but Akashi and Tōgō had taken time out to paint them black with white stripes! The days of bright liveries were over!

Could this day get any better?

A casual glance in the mirror suggested that _yes_ , it could. Her oversized uniform felt a bit tighter about her frame; Mikasa realized that she could roll down her sleeves and avoid resembling a petty criminal in the same stroke. For some reason she looked and felt skinnier, though a lighthearted flex of her abdomen revealed that the pre-dreadnought still boasted a muscular armor belt.

Had the shortened her beam? No, that wasn't it.

But if they hadn't made her leaner, then that meant…

"We increased your overall length by about twenty percent as we had to make room for the larger powerplant and Akashi's modifications to the Stirling boilers and engines. That means…"

"I'm as tall as you now, Akashi," Mikasa raised a happy eyebrow.

"That means you're still _short_ , Mikasa."

"That may be true," she wagged her index finger in return, "but I am now _less_ short."

"If that pleases you then that's fine with-ACK!"

In that moment, Jukeini and Akashi discovered why you should never make a British-built battleship happy, for when such a spirit indulges in a pure burst of emotion not even a god could stop her.

This meant that the personified form of 15,000 tons of steel, complete with 836 terrified fairies, ran up to her confederates with the full force and power of a pyroclastic flow.

"Mikasa," Akashi mumbled through her squnched-up face, "if you truly appreciate what we did for you, please stop squeezing us to death."

"Oh!" At once the familiar, slightly-cheeky, slightly-sheepish Mikasa they knew rematerialized before them. "I must have gotten a little carried away," she laughed nervously.

"That's to put it mildly," Jukeini muttered.

At that moment Admiral Tōgō appeared on Mikasa's bridge wearing an expression Akashi had never seen him use before. It was not one foreign to the repair ship, but also one she had never expected him to use either.

It was the same one that Warspite's Admiral Cunningham had worn after stumbling upon the aftermath between his ship and a kotatsu Ōyodo had taken away.

"There's something wrong with our bloody ships today," the Gensui's thousand-yard stare informed her.

* * *

"Hey, Akatsuki!" Mikasa smiled as she opened the hallway door to readmit her little friend.

"Akatsuki?"

"Oh, there you are."

The Vickers pre-dreadnought spotted the purple-haired destroyer curled up about her cap, peacefully snoozing.

"Looks like she fell asleep," Akashi giggled.

"On the floor? Like that? I bet she would be happier in her dorms with her sisters."

"Oh no, Mikasa, I have a bad feeling about what you're about to ask next…" Jukeini groaned.

"I am totally _not_ about to ask to stretch my legs and take this little lady to her room," the pre-dreadnought replied with a straight-face.

"Mikasa," Tōgō massaged her forehead, "I forgot to tell you this but your machinery is actually untested."

"Untested? Hm?"

"We…kind of forgot to take into account the shape of your hull when making the calculations," Akashi explained with shameful expression. "Since your hull shape is a lot wider than the references we consulted in making the calculations, our planned speed isn't your actual speed."

"All the more reason to execute a mini speed-trial right now then."

"Admiral, explain to her why this is a bad idea," Akashi pleaded.

"Mikasa, you just got new boilers; you don't want to overtax them and burst one now, do you?" The fairy chimed in half-scoldingly, half-amusedly.

"I'll only go as fast as the crew let me," she insisted.

"If that's the case, then I don't see why not," he shrugged. Akashi translated his message to Jukeini.

"How is she going to find Akatsuki's dormitory though? Yokosuka's changed a lot since she last remembered."

"Desu desu desu (Leave it to us!)" Akatsuki's captain called out.

After flagging down the battleship for pickup, the destroyer captain clambered aboard Mikasa's bridge where the four fairy officers began plotting and planning a route for everyone to safely return home.

* * *

"Half-speed!" Hikojirō shouted.

"Half-speed!" The navigator replied, pulling a lever to signal to the men below about their designated course.

"Half speed, he said?" A fireman shouted to another.

"That's what the gauge says he wants," the other fairy replied.

"What's half speed for her now though?" The fireman mused. "Ah hell, we'll just shovel coal in until the pressure gauge says we shouldn't."

"That should bring us to flank speed though…"

"Bother that. We need to figure out how much she can handle! Might save our behinds later on in battle."

"If you say so…"

* * *

 _Two knots._

 _Three knots._

 _Five knots._

 _Eight knots._

"Turn left here," Akiyama ordered as he deciphered the crew's map.

"Now?" The helmsman asked incredulously.

"Now!"

"Hard to port!"

"Hard to port!"

Some sailors swore as they were pushed into beams and doors by the battleship's abrupt turn. The crew of the Akatsuki, on the other hand…

"What is that noise?" Omura shouted down at the group of sailors playing cards on the destroyer's deck.

"Music!" One of them shouted back. "We found it pretty catchy whenever the seas are rough and our ships begin to drift."

"That's not music," he growled, but before he could utter a retort a sudden jolt caused him to faceplant into the ship's railing.

 _Twelve knots._

 _Sixteen knots._

 _Twenty knots._

"That's not half speed," Hikojirō murmured worriedly. "What the hell are they doing down there?"

The battleship ran faster and faster…

* * *

Mikasa never had any intention of following through with her agreement of avoiding flank speed; if she could run, she had to know how fast she could do so! The life of her crew depended upon it!

Of course, she could have heeded Jukeini's warnings and saved that for another time, but the firemen seemed to agree with her plan.

 _Twenty-four knots._

 _Twenty-five knots._

Ah…this was the life. She could just picture Nagato staring at her bewilderedly as she passed by the dreadnought in battle.

 _Twenty-six knots._

 _Twenty-seven knots._

 _Twenty-eight knots._

Oh? She could go even faster? Well then…

For the first time in her life, Mikasa found herself uttering three infamous words she never thought she would agree with.

"Gotta go faster!"

* * *

 _Twenty-eight and a half knots._

 _Twenty-nine knots._

"Tell the firemen to stop shoveling," Tōgō ordered as he tried to protect his cap from the strong breeze. "I have a bad feeling that if we go any faster she'll be in the docks for months."

"Any faster and we'll break thirty knots!" Hikojirō shouted.

Akiyama cautiously glanced down at Akatsuki's crew, expecting them to be likewise shielding themselves from the fierce winds.

But the crew was still lying about all over Akatsuki, looking completely unperturbed by the ship's high speeds.

"How can you all stand this?" He shouted in disbelief.

"She's a destroyer! We're supposed to go this fast!" The captain replied.

* * *

Mikasa grimaced as she felt a cramp being to develop in her right calf, a sensation amplified by the sudden urge to go slower.

"They're shutting off steam, but I haven't tired myself out! I think we're almost there though, so here goes…"

 _Twenty-nine knots and a half._

"….Nothing!"

* * *

"Braaakkeee!" Captain Hikojirō shouted as Akatsuki's fairies began frantically pointing at a door adorned with penguins and stars.

Huh, it was over? So soon? It was a short walk….

"Flank speed, approximately 29.5 knots," a sailor reported as the battleship came to a standstill. "Standard speed, between 26 and 28 knots."

"That wasn't so bad," she thought aloud as she casually shook her legs. "I didn't even—"

 _Creak._

She choke backed the urge to give an almighty yelp as the cramping began in earnest.

 _Maybe I should have taken their advice more seriously_.

"Have a glass of water, nanodesu," a small hand reached out helpfully. It belonged to a just-as-small brunette whose hair was tidied in a neat bun. "You look like you need it."

Her red-haired sister looked on in approval.

"You probably consumed a lot of water trying to get here, so drink up! You can rely upon Ikazuchi for all your needs," she pointed to herself smugly.

"So you're…Inazuma," Mikasa pointed at the waterbearer, who promptly tried disappearing behind a bookshelf, "and you're Ikazuchi," she continued, nodding at the confident destroyer. "Then that means…"

"I'm Hibiki," the silver-haired girl bowed serenely.

"You're Akatsuki's sisters, right?"

"Yes. However, I am afraid we will have to talk some other time. It is getting late now, and Akatsuki gets fussy when she goes to sleep past bedtime."

"Bedtime? You mean it's-?"

"Da. It is three hours before midnight."

The pre-dreadnought gave a start at the girl's response. Something about the destroyer's response was odd, but she couldn't put a finger to it. Was it the fact it was 9 in the evening? In that case, she _should_ be leaving them be now…

"Have a good night then! Sleep well!"

"Spasibo. Have a good night too."

At that farewell Mikasa's mind came to a screeching halt.

"Did you just say-?" she began, but quickly realized that she was talking to a closed door.

"A Japanese destroyer speaking Russian, eh?" Mikasa mused. What a time to be alive! Of course, it was possible that her ears deceived her, but she doubted that. Da was da, and spasibo was spasibo. Why Hibiki was so interested in that horrid tongue was beyond her, and she would absolutely not tolerate it being spoken in her presence.

Unfortunately, her little inquisition would have to wait until another time. Hibiki's heresy would live to see another day.

"So…" Hikojirō's voice trailed off ominously. "Any idea how to get back to Jukeini?"

"We could use Mikasa's signal lamps and searchlights and retrace our steps," Akiyama laughed nervously.

"…This is going to be a long night, isn't it?"

* * *

"Good morning," Lieutenant Tōgō grinned as her wearied friend nearly fell through the door. It was five in the morning—a good nine hours after the battleship's self-assigned mission.

"Don't say anything," Mikasa mumbled, rolling about obliviously on the floor, "don't say anything."

"Looks like I'll need to show you around soon," she laughed, "and remind you to give your crew training exercises."

"Sounds like a…"

* * *

 **A/N:** By the way, introducing another one of Mikasa's historical officers-turned-admirals: Abo Kiyokazu. Apparently he crafted funny insults ( _Alexander III_ became 'Stupid Santa,' _Borodino_ 'flaws galore,' _Oryol_ 'ant farm,' and _Dmitri Donskoi_ 'garbage man Gonsuke') to call Russian ships during the Russo-Japanese War so that the crew could easily identify their targets. While he lived long enough to see the end of World War II, it appears that he was a political moderate throughout the period, being a member of the Treaty Faction.

I'll try and create a list of every single character mentioned so far later this weekend. This will also give me an opportunity to try and explain some characterizations.


	23. Dreams and Nightmares: The Eboshi

**A/N:** I've come to realize the futility of waiting to finish a complete set of chapters before posting them; after I post this set I will go back to the original posting cycle (several readable fragments of a chapter a week). Not only is it annoying editing 30k words at once, I doubt many people can have the time to read 30k words at once. Since I'm still in the process of editing said 30k-word chapter, I'll post the first part right now and release the rest later this evening/tomorrow.

The main reason for my delay is that I didn't want readers to think I was dragging out the base/ambience/fluff/non-combat scenes, so I tried writing it all at once and posting it one go. The problem was that with all the characterization, plot advancement, and funny snippets mixed in, it took me far long than my initial estimates to do so.

That said, the next four chapters (whole numbers, not A/B/C etc.) I am posting (yes, they are either complete or near completion) encompass scenes surrounding Yokosuka. **After this set, we will begin our return to action in earnest (the premise is vaguely alluded to in the following posts); from then on out the rest of the arc will be action focused, with only a brief interruption to update events elsewhere (read: Missouri and co...among others).** I would have preferred to have it spread out more evenly...but it wouldn't make sense to have things like learning about inflation (in the Meiji Era, a suit costed about 28 yen) in the middle of a pitched battle.

This set of four chapters discuss matters such as Mikasa learning her way about, training with her new riggings (and the fairies' reactions to new combat doctrines and philosophies), food, her impressions of other ship girls, and memories of the Russo-Japanese War gang. They're other things touched that I haven't mentioned here, but I'll leave it to you to find out.

In this particular chapter, it's entirely a recollection of Kaimon's memories of Mikasa and the other Anglo-Japanese warships (Kaimon was built _extremely slowly_ at Yokosuka Naval Arsenal over the 1870's/1880's). Lots of characterization to be found here.

* * *

 _"Ah, green tea, green tea," she took a hearty sniff of her drink and gave an 'aah' in satisfaction. "My kingdom for a cup of green tea."_

 _Kaimon stared at her confusedly._

 _"An excerpt from the English play Richard the Third," her friend explained nonchalantly, carefully planting her parasol in the ground beside them, "in which something seemingly trivial becomes crucial. In this case it's this expertly-crafted drink." She carefully laid the cup atop the hill knoll they were resting upon. "You made this, didn't you?"_

 _"I did." The corvette looked away, a mournful expression on her face. "I would have conducted a proper tea ceremony and invited you," she laughed hollowly, "if we weren't so short on time."_

 _"Indeed, we would have missed this wonderful sunset," the woman nodded in agreement, her western-style dress rippling in the cool breeze. "It looks especially wonderful tonight, no?" At this comment Kaimon burst into tears._

 _"Now now," she soothed as she carefully wiped away her friend's tears with her sleeve. "Don't you cry on me now."_

 _"I c-c-can't believe…all this time…and you're going away…forever…"_

 _"I can. It's my time," she said softly, giving her a radiant smile. "Kaimon, you wouldn't know this yet, but as you get older you know. I've been afloat for twenty-four years now. I've seen the rise and fall of empires and served in six navies before finding Home. I would prefer to die knowing that I have done my duty rather than sinking into a sea of uncertainty."_

 _"But you're a hero!"_

 _"Even heroes must rest. Besides, I know that Japan's future lies in good hands," she added, a mysterious twinkle in her eyes._

 _"How can you be so certain?"_

 _The woman opened her mouth to reply when there was a faint sound of a ship's whistle in the distance._

 _"I don't have much time," she said calmly as she carefully began undoing her hat. "Kaimon, I have one final request, as one friend to another: give my successor this."_

 _"An eboshi? But…why?" Kaimon shook her head in confusion as she accepted the cloth helmet. "And how will I know who to give it to?"_

 _"You will know who," she smiled softly, and began walking away to the bay in the distance._

 _"Kōtetsu!" Kaimon found her breath as her friend looked at her for the last time._

 _"I'll never forget you!"_

 _"Nor will I," the ironclad returned, and disappeared into the evening's golden haze._

* * *

 _"_ _Oi, Tatsuta! Are you sure she's coming today?" Kaimon demanded, frantically poking the unarmored aviso._

 _"Yes," the cruiser sighed, tapping the corvette's head with a rolled-up piece of paper. "You can read the memo again if you want."_

 _Without further provocation Kaimon snatched the message and began furiously scrutinizing it._

 _"FIRST of SIX battleships FUJI est. arrival at SASEBO NAVAL DISTRICT…"_

 _Nurr…Nurrr…Hoo…Hoo…Nurr…Nurr..Hoo…Hoo_

 _"Oiyoiyoi, could you two SHUT UP!" Kaimon snapped at the two women moaning and sobbing atop a pier._

 _"Chin…pass me that pitcher of champagne again," Matsushima rasped, her pale cheeks tinted red from her drinking spree._

 _"That's…your twentieth swig…or summin' like tha'," the peacock-hat-wearing Chin'en slurred in response, clearly sloshed herself._

 _The corvette groaned as she felt a rampaging headache coming on. "Couldn't you two have gotten drunk at a worse time? The new battleship is supposed to arrive any moment now…"_

 _"Exactly," Matsushima replied, "this is the perfect time to be drunk, for the two of us are about to realize how obsolete we both are. All I'll have left is my French curves…"_

 _"…an' my court hat!" the former Chinese battleship added, giving it an affectionate pat._

 _Suddenly there was a low, distant whistling noise in the distance._

 _"Here she comes!" Asama jumped excitedly._

 _Kaimon took note as the Japanese sailors, soldiers, civilians, and shopkeepers stormed the quay, pushing and shoving each other as they struggled to take a look at the rapidly-approaching twin-columns of smoke rising high into the air. She wasn't quite sure what to expect from the newcomer. All the Yokosuka-built corvette knew was that this woman was supposed to be far more powerful than anything the IJN had ever fielded before, so strong in fact that not even Chin'en, an ironclad battleship that the Chinese had used to devastating effect against their French-designed cruisers, stood a leg against her. She was also constructed in a faraway island nation…the United Kingdom if the corvette recalled correctly. If Tatsuta's and Asama's dreamy expressions were any indication, it was an incredibly powerful, warlike nation with a rich naval history._

 _It was also the perfect place to bear a heroine worthy of her friend's name._

 _The tooting of two small tugboats, each proudly hugging the side of the approaching battleship with broad smiles upon their spirits' faces, announced the newcomer's arrival. The spectacle nearly took Kaimon's breath away._

 _In such a small space the warship packed a formidable armament. A pair of guns of nearly the same caliber as the Matsushima sisters' own guarded her bow, and a complimentary set her stern. On her long broadside stood a line of smaller yet equally-intimidating guns standing at attention, eager to mow down anyone foolish enough to enter their range. This was not the form of a warrior eager and ready to do her liege's bidding; no, this was the face of a war goddess ready to send down the wrath of the heavens at a moment's notice._

 _With each approaching step Kaimon became more and more convinced of her convictions. The Japanese civilians cheered and hugged each and every sailor as they climbed down the gangway, relieved to be home at last. Some flashes of light illuminated the crowd as journalists scrambled to take pictures of the men responsible for overseeing her construction and sending her home. In fact, the corvette became so caught up in the chaos that she nearly knocked someone over in her distracted state._

 _"Sorry…" Kaimon grumbled, but the other person didn't hear her._

 _"Watch where you're going," said person, a stout, broad-shouldered woman with unkempt black hair, growled, "look what you've done to my book!"_

 _"Sorry," the corvette apologized more sincerely, "perhaps I could—" Kaimon sighed in frustration as she realized that she was talking to thin air, the woman having long since curtly brushed past her._

 _"Hey, wait up!" She panted as she furiously tried to catch up with her target. "I was just in rush to meet someone. Her name is Fuji."_

 _The woman stopped dead in her tracks. "You want to talk with someone named Fuji?" she scowled, her eyebrows resembling crows about to fly off and attack the offending warship._

 _"Y-y-yes," Kaimon replied, feeling a bit anxious as the woman's face loomed menacingly near the corvette's own._

 _"Well, out with it."_

 _Her eyes widened in realization. "You're Fuji?"_

 _"Yes," Fuji replied, freeing a hand from her novel to pull back hair that was obscuring her left eye. "Should have been obvious to both of us that we were ships the moment we bumped into each other. At least, I wouldn't have felt it if you were merely human. Anyway," her expression softened slightly, "what did you want to talk about?"_

 _Her mind froze as she realized how awkward her subject was: she couldn't exactly run up to a stranger and say, "Hey, my friend's dying wish was to find her successor and give her this traditional hat. I believe you're the one." No sane Japanese person would do that!_

 _"…what are you reading?" Kaimon asked hesitantly, deciding to at least show_ ** _some_** _shred of courtesy before discussing pressing matters. Whatever response she was expecting, it was definitely not for the novel to disappear in a flash into the breastpocket of Fuji's stylish, Western-inspired Meiji court uniform._

 _"It's none of your business," she grunted._

 _Suddenly Asama slid up to them, talking to Fuji excitedly in a tongue Kaimon was not familiar with. Much to Kaimon's surprise, Fuji answered Asama's gibberish with her own enthusiastic response, again with words completely foreign to the corvette's dictionary._

 _It didn't take long for her to realize that the language was English, or the fact that Fuji appeared to be more passionate about her English heritage than any sense of pride and honor for the country…_

* * *

 _With every new delivery, Kaimon felt her heart sink deeper and deeper. No battleship could ever match Kōtetsu's spirit, even if the ironclad was supposedly more tranquil in her final days as Azuma._

 _Yashima was a deplorable girl; all day and all night she would do nothing but read British literary works as if they were the greatest gifts to grace this green earth. She rejected any and all attempts to read Kaimon's recommendations, dismissing them as 'horrific gory drivel.'_

 _At first she had an auspicious feeling about Shikishima, believing that beneath her childish disposition lay a cunning mind not unlike a young Oda Nobunaga, but eventually she too was forced to concede that there was no potential within the childish battleship._

 _Or any battleship for that matter._

 _Perhaps Kōtetsu had gone mad and began hallucinating…_

* * *

 _At least, she believed until she met her._

 _Kaimon would never forget that day. Shikishima had pulled a prank on Yashima and Fuji and had been cavorting all about the base in a desperate attempt to escape them. Frustrated with their antics, she had walked outside to escape it all._

 _Bump._

 _"Sorry."_

 _"Sorry!" A voice called out with a tinge of embarrassment. "Are you alright?"_

 _"Asama," Kaimon began reprimanding, "don't stop and stare at Sasebo Naval Base as if it's some earth-shattering—" She promptly choked upon her words upon giving the offending warship a closer glance._

 _ **It wasn't Asama.**_

 _Sure, like Asama the stranger wore a black-and-white color scheme of the IJN captain's uniform, but that's where the similarities stopped. She was slightly shorter than Asama, but considerably more muscular; even a casual shift in her pose revealed the powerful body hidden behind the tunic. Moreover, whereas the armored cruiser had a rounded face flanked by chin-length hair, her hair was significantly longer, flowing freely past her elegant countenance until blending in with the outlines of her chest and stomach. Her eyes were also glaringly different: a pair of grey eyes with a strange light to them gazed at her with a mixture of fear and worry._

 _"Sorry…I'm new," she replied nervously. "Could you tell me where the flagship is?" She asked politely in fluent Japanese._

 _"In the Admiral's office inside the building, upstairs, and to the left. The British warships like to make it their home when the humans are out."_

 _"Oh…thank you! I'm Mikasa by the way," the stranger added, extending a hand in appreciation. "I look forward to working with you, whoever you are."_

 _It wasn't until long after Mikasa disappeared into the building that Kaimon realized that she had just shaken hands with the sixth and most recent battleship that Japan had thus far ordered abroad, and one proclaimed by Japanese and British observers alike to be the most powerful warship of her time._

 _"What a polite young woman…."_ ___  
 _"Hey, Kaimon, are you going to be watching the little play that Yashima and the other British battleships are putting on later this afternoon?" Asama asked._

 _"Of course," she snorted, "I'll take Yashima and the Rangaku girls' interpretation of a 'play' any day of the week. I need more ridiculous works of 'literature' to brighten up my day." A shadow of annoyance passed over the cruiser's face._

 _"You know the new girl is going to be in it, right?" Asama reprimanded._

 _"….Oh," Kaimon said simply._

 _"If you're going to poke fun at Yashima's productions, just make sure that you don't hurt the newcomer's feelings, okay? I haven't met her yet, but from what I've heard she's pretty shy, in spite of being the most heavily-armed battleship in the entire Navy."_ ___  
 _"Horatio, I am dead…Report me and my cause…" The white-haired battleship panted, a fake sword protruding from her torso. There were low whimpers and 'Yashima, don't die on us!' shouts from the assembled destroyers._

"She's really giving her all into it tonight, isn't she, Kaimon?" Asama chuckled, taking in the scene with unrestrained delight.

 _"Kaimon?"_

 _"Quiet, I'm trying to understand the story. That barbaric uncle," she growled._

 _"So, what was that again about English Drama?" Asama asked teasingly._

 _"If there were more stories about restoring the honor of a country and less about sappy young teenagers dishonoring their families' names and their own I might be tempted to retract my statement. But that's not my interest right now. You said Mikasa would appear in this play," Kaimon frowned._

 _"She should. In fact, here she comes." At the moment the King, or rather Queen, of Norway appeared on the stage, mournfully surveying the carnage around her._

 _"Where is this sight…"_

 _"Goodness gracious that girl is a woman of a thousand faces, isn't she?" the black-haired cruiser gasped in awe at the Queen's pained expression. "I actually believe that she's mourning the Danes as if they were Norwegians."_

 _Kaimon didn't hear the Elswick-born cruiser's commentary, for she was standing on top of her seat, holding tightly to the makeshift railing._

 _"Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot."_

 _There was a faint, strange glimmer in Mikasa's grey orbs as she expressed remorse for the fall of the Danish royal family, a glimmer so faint that most would dismiss it as a trick of the light. But Kaimon knew better._

 _It was the twinkle of a warship genuinely determined to do right and protect her country where others failed._

* * *

 _"One more thing, Yashima," Kaimon added, studying her knife to see if it needed sharpening, "while this may not be the best analogy, a general once said 'arouse a bee and it will came at you with the force of a dragon.' While I believe it applies best to the fact that Russia has provoked us to act, it also applies to the enemy once the Russians respond. They may have only a budding force near Korea, but once the army arrives from Europe…" her voice trailed off as her eyes met Mikasa's own._

 _Of the five battleships awake and present for the debate, only Mikasa had remained silent._

 _"What are you thinking, Mikasa?" Kaimon wondered to herself, only to find the answer in the battleship's gaze. They lacked their usual glassy steel color, instead taking on an incredibly murky shade._

 _"Then what," Yashima croaked hoarsely, the concern creeping deep into her voice._

 _"I don't know," the corvette shrugged, breaking contact with the silent warship. "We'll find out soon enough."_ ___  
 _"It's okay to have an opinion, Mikasa," Kaimon called out as the battleship remained fastened to her position along the wall long after everyone left, as if someone had nailed her to it. "Everyone does," she added as she resumed sharpening her knife. "The only difference is whether we let those judgments guide us or blind us."_

 _"I don't know what you're talking about," she returned, giving the Yokosukan corvette the same lifeless glance Kaimon had seen moments earlier._

 _"I could see it in your eyes," Kaimon sighed. "You were torn on what was the right thing to do." At that comment the battleship began to look agitated._

 _"I…just…don't know," she said softly, sinking onto the floor. "I really don't. I want to protect this country and make its people proud, but…how?"_

 _The corvette didn't answer her, instead focusing her attention on the block of wood before her._

 _Nick. Nick. Nick. Nick._

 _"What are you carving?" Mikasa asked, craning her head to take a closer look at the woodcut Kaimon was working on._

 _"The Four Battles for Kawanakajima. Contrary to what Yashima thinks our past wasn't always about dying. There were moments like this one, where two enemies, Takeda Shingen and Uesugi Kenshin, showed mutual respect for one another. They were squabbling pettily over a border they both shared, but their actions certainly didn't stoop to that level." Kaimon paused and took a deep breath. "There was a food shortage that rocked Shingen's army, threatening his soldiers with starvation. Hearing this, Kenshin did something unimaginable: he delivered supplies to his enemy. Supposedly, the general proclaimed that wars were not won with rice and salt, but with swords and spears. Incredibly honorable of him no, considering how many thousands of lives that had and would be lost in their engagements?"_

 _"Honor," she repeated quietly, a small smile spreading across her face. "Chivalry."_

 _"Chivalry?" Kaimon inquired confusedly._

 _"It's hard to explain…"_

* * *

 _"Uh, Kaimon, could you a little easier on us next time?" Fuji groaned as she lay sprawled out atop a straw mat, bruised and aching in places that she didn't even know it was possible to experience pain in._

 _"No," the corvette shook her head as she lifted the wooden spear away from the battleship's neck. "If anything you should be going easier on me. I'm just a little steamer fighting against battleships, and six of them at that. Let's try again, all of you," she shouted to the other five heaps as she resumed her fighting stance._

 _"You're omitting the fact that you're a sōjutsu master, Kaimon," Asahi whimpered as she massaged a massive bruise on her forehead. "None of us have martial skills, y'know."_

 _"Oh? And what about that fast-paced sword-style that I hear is popular in Europe?"_

 _"Fencing?" Yashima snorted. "The Frogs invented fencing. It's more of artistic dancing than actually fighting, if you can even call those flourishes that."_

 _"Then it's time you lot learn! The way of the sword and spear are useful talents to master. Up on your feet!"_

 _Reluctantly, the battleships did as they were told._

 _"I'm not going to hold back!" Kaimon warned as without further ado she tore into them._

 _Much to her disappointment their challenges to her attack were incredibly weak. Fuji swung her bokken about menacingly but overextended in her swipes, allowing the corvette to quickly disarm and promptly knock her out with a well-aimed hit to the skull. Yashima brandished some elegant flourishes that were little more than theatrical demonstrations, never once parrying or even coming into contact with Kaimon's weapon. The other four were just as easy to knock out; her rampage ended just as soon as it had begun, with the contestants the worse off for the wear._

 _"Mmmmm," Shikishima whimpered from her upside-down position. "That wasn't very nice."_

 _"No it wasn't," Kaimon agreed as she rested on her spear, "but you need to learn. And put more passion into it. I see you six putting your all into those Rangaku plays of yours, why can't you put up something more than boring jab in our—"_

 _Whrm._

 _On instinct she sharply reclined as something whizzed by her right ear, but even then she took in a sharp breath as the sword's trajectory stung her cheek as if someone had slapped her._

 _"If you want a fight," a voice interrupted steely, "then how about we have one?"_

 _"I gladly answer your challenge, Mikasa," Kaimon smirked as she braced her spear. "Don't stumble over this time, yes?"_

 _She could hardly remember the next few minutes, her entire mind and soul dedicated to the task before her. Mikasa was not a skilled swordswoman by any means, the corvette easily anticipating and parrying her attacks with the shaft of her polearm, but the energy and enthusiasm the battleship put into her movements was exhilarating, no, intoxicating._

 _For the first time in a long time, Kaimon was on the defensive. Every parry caused her body to shudder from the battleship's force, Mikasa's furious hacking giving her little time to enact her own moves._

 _Thok. Thok. Thok._

 _The spear trembled slightly as Mikasa's bokken steadily carved grooves into the wood._

 _Suddenly there was an opening as the battleship swung the blade high above her head, preparing to let it crash down right over Kaimon's head._

 _"An important note, Mikasa," Kaimon warned, "warriors don't fight fair," she stated as she sent a hard kick into the battleship's stomach knocking her backwards._

 _"Well then," Mikasa replied an uncharacteristically dark grin, "that makes me feel better for doing this." Recognizing that there was no way to evade her own fall, the pre-dreadnought devoted all of her energy into taking the corvette down with her, grabbing Kaimon's spear and causing her to lose balance._

 _"That's one hell of a move," Kaimon smirked again, deftly dodging a wild swing to the face._

 _"There's more where that came from!"_

 _Once more Mikasa aimed for her head, bringing the wooden blade down on the crown of Kaimon's skull. This time, Kaimon decided to try something entirely different: dropping her spear, she grabbed the sword with her two palms, wresting it out of the battleship's hands and effectively disarming her._

 _What she hadn't expected was for the black-haired battleship to send two fingers straight into her eye sockets, blinding her. Her vision impaired briefly, Kaimon abandoned her ploy, picked up her spear, and frantically rolled away._

 _The two of them stared at each other as they recovered their breath from opposite ends of the makeshift training field._

 _"I finally understand why you're considered Japan's strongest battleship, Mikasa," Kaimon thought as she studied her opponent. Whereas she was struggling to recover her breath and panting furiously, the battleship had hardly broken into anything more than a cool sweat lining her brow. Moreover, Mikasa had a look in her eye that was both familiar yet foreign at the same time. Her eyes had transitioned to a murky dark grey, but they had 'that look' to them, the light reflecting off of them like a rising sun reflecting off the cool blue ocean._

 _Perhaps she had been studying her opponent for too long or off-guard by this peculiar expression, for Kaimon was completely unprepared when Mikasa bolted towards her. Instinctively she raised the spear above her head, expecting Mikasa to make another downwards swing at her face…_

 _But the swing from above never came; instead, she hacked upwards from the stomach up, nicking Kaimon's jaw and cleaving the spear in two with one fluid stroke._

 _"Draw your sword," Mikasa grinned sweetly with her dark eyes, looking at the sheathed sword at the Yokosuka-built's hips expectantly. For a fraction of a second Kaimon actually feared for her life. Never ever had she expected one so shy, so reserved to be concealing such a raw martial spirit._

 _After briefly letting her opponent re-arm herself Mikasa became locked with Kaimon in a frenzied exchange of blows. The corvette consistently had the upper hand, her expression having changed little over the course of the fight. Whereas Kaimon continues to deliver and receive blows with energy, Mikasa slowed noticeably down._

 _Yet, not even the onset of fatigue could shake her from her goal. Every parried blow, every wild miss seemed to invigorate Mikasa even more. Her resolve had grown from a mere palisade to an inescapable fortress strangling the corvette to death._

 _At last it happened._

 _Kaimon was no kenjutsu expert, believing polearms to be the far superior weapon. She had brandished her bokken hoping to divert Mikasa's momentum away from her body but had sorely underestimated the power of its force. The uneven pressure to her hands caused her to stumble back and release a hand to break her fall. It was in that moment that the battleship revealed that she had been holding back, her apparent fatigue a farce, for she easily overpowered Kaimon and sent the sword whizzing far behind them both._

 _That meant that she was unarmed and very exposed on the straw floor, pinned down by a still-armed battleship, one who also had a maniacal gleam in her eyes as she swooped down upon her prey. Mikasa was a cat toying with its dinner._

 _"Well done, Mikasa," she smiled in defeat, relishing the experience of a fight not unlike between warriors of old. "Now, run me through."_

 _Immediately the sword began trembling and the smile faded, replaced by a nervous whimper. The ever-hungry eyes gave way to more familiar, brighter timid ones._

 _"K-Kaimon, I can't…"_

 _"What are you talking about? Of course you can! Run me through!" At that statement Mikasa dropped her weapon and began sniffling._

 _"I can't kill you, Kaimon…"_

 _"Kill me? You wouldn't kill me, Mikasa!" she shouted, demonstrating the results by plunging the sword deep into her own chest, the wooden blade shattering on impact. "We're ships, not humans, remember? A wooden sword wouldn't do anything more than scratch my hull docked outside."_

 _"I….know…."_

 _"What?" she replied blankly._

 _If the problem wasn't about lacking a fighting spirit, then what on earth could she worried about?_

* * *

 _Blood. There was blood everywhere._

 _It was on the remains of Yashima and Hatsuse, whose carcasses were floating on the ocean like driftwood._

 _It was on the unmoving forms of Shikishima, Fuji, and Asahi._

 _And it was flowing freely from the massive gash in her stomach, as she lay lifelessly on the ocean surface._

 _"So this…is dying," she murmured, coughing up blood._

 _"If I die, I will die pitching forward."_

 _Carefully, she rolled over onto all fours and began dragging herself about, trying to get a better view of the battlefield. A few meters away she could see the remains of Asama, who had been reduced to ribbons by some monster. Further away some destroyers listed dangerously on their sides on the verge of sinking._

 _And in the distance, was that…_

 _Was that Mikasa, alive and still fighting?_

 _If she was, the battleship was not doing a good job at it. Sure, she hadn't been killed yet in spite of the swarm of faceless enemies surrounding her, but as far as Kaimon could tell she wasn't killing them either. Every time they got close Mikasa merely shoved them back._

 _"GIVE THEM HELL, MIKASA!" Kaimon shouted with all of her remaining strength._

 _Mikasa's eyes widened fearfully at Kaimon before undergoing an amazing transformation. It was as if the corvette's words were an all-healing elixir, electrifying her like a trumpet's call to battle. Her timidity gave way to confidence, those nervous eyes giving way to a commanding gaze exuding calmness and prowess._

 _With one fell swoop, the battleship cut through her enemies as if they were wet paper. One of her attackers flew high into the air before splashing into the water like a monstrous shell. Another was crushed beneath Mikasa's heel as if it were merely a pest and not a bringer of death and destruction upon everyone she had known. Another group of enemies rushed her in an attempt to save their friends but were met with the same fate. The battle was over before it had even begun._

 _But not for Kaimon._

 _"Kaimon!" Someone cried out, clutching the sinking corvette closely to her body. "Oh Kaimon, Kaimon, why…" she whispered, tears rolling down her face in grief._

 _"Mikasa," she whispered softly, "never ever before have I ever…"_

* * *

 _"Been so proud of you…" Kaimon murmured, her dark eyes greeting the dark skies above her. The night had not yet died away; there was still at least a few more hours left until daybreak. That gave her plenty of time to review the strange dream, no, omen, that she had awoken from._

 _She would not and could not tell Mikasa what was right or wrong; the battleship would have to decide and figure that out for herself. However, she could do something far more important._

 _In a few weeks they would steam out across the Yellow Sea to attack Port Arthur. It would be a war between floating fortresses, not old steamers like her. Kaimon knew that she would not come out of the conflict alive; the odds were simply not in her favor. However, she would not be the only one to sink; she couldn't help but shake the feeling that Mikasa would see many of her close friends die before it was the battleship's time to rest._

 _What the young woman needed more than anything else was encouragement and confidence. Beneath the glowing coals was a fiery passion that simply needed to be stoked._

 _"Kōtetsu, I finally understand you," she laughed, reaching into the folds of her hakama to find a familiar folded hat that had she kept hidden for so many years. As quietly as she could, Kaimon snuck aboard the still-sleeping pre-dreadnought, weaving through the ship's nightwatch and other crew that maintained an unspoken vigil over her._

 _The Japanese-built steamship didn't have to do much searching before she came across the spirit's form curled up in her deckhouse._

 _There was so much Kaimon wanted to say and do with the young battleship before the ancient warship inevitably met her fate, but first…_

 _"Mikasa," she gently tapped the pre-dreadnought's sharp nose, "wake up."_

* * *

"Wake up!"

"Huh?" The warship gave a start as her grey eyes fluttered upon the faint outline of Jukeini looking down at her.

"Sorry to bother you so soon, but I'd thought you'd want to have some breakfast with Kongō before taking a stroll around the base."

"Breakfast? At six in the morning? That means I slept for only an hour."

"Welcome to my life!" Lieutenant Tōgō gave an infectious grin. "Besides, you look well-rested. Have a good dream or something?"

"Yes," she returned with her own smile, "yes, you could say that."

* * *

 **Some Notes:  
**  
On Kaimon's Personality: Although the Meiji Era was rather pro-modernization (martial arts and arts such as traditional swordsmanship was apparently declining until the closure of Meiji's reign), the 1870's during which Kaimon was laid down was a gateway period (which coincidentally is apparently one reading of Kaimon's name, 'Sea Gate') between the semi-hybrid system of samurai and modern weaponry and "Westernization with Japanese Characteristics." Notably, the corvette was constructed just a few years after the Satsuma Rebellion, which effectively was the last gasp of the samurai as a social-military force. Because of that, Kaimon is extremely proud of Japanese culture, and looks on rather contemptuously at imported customs, calling them Rangaku _ (note that she is almost certainly misusing the term, but she does so intentionally as a jab at the manner in which the others apply their heritage). However, Kaimon does express genuine affection for the Anglo-Japanese battleships; she just does so in her own rough way, as seen here.

Asama and Mikasa being rough doppelgangers: There's no real reason behind this (unless you count Asama being lucky at not taking damage in the Russo-Japanese War until Tsushima, or the fact that she survived the Russo-Japanese War, World War I, **and** World War II) except that I got confused who was who when quickly glancing at a picture of Asama and Mikasa. Asama's appearance is also a reference to the popular rendition of Mikasa as a kanmusu (except in an IJN uniform and not a miko outfit).

'Chin': A reference to Chin'en, formerly the Chinese battleship Zhenyuan, a warship captured from the Beiyang fleet during the First Sino-Japanese War. My headcanon is that despite Matsushima and Zhenyuan being enemies, they have since become good friends (I'll go into more details about their relationship later) over their long service together.

Matsushima and her 'French Curves': Literally a reference to the fact that she carries a 13-inch gun on her stern. She was also built in France.


	24. Dreams and Nightmares: Morning Madness

**A/N:** Here is the first fragment of the second chapter I've been working on. Basically this combined the idea of 'a day at Yokosuka' with Mikasa's training, so this segment is a bit fluffy, though the next one is less so. (Fragment 1/6)

* * *

"BREAKFAST TIME, DESS!" Kongō cooed as a line of fairies eagerly hauled over trolley after trolley of eggs, toast, sausages, and dozens of other foodstuffs that, were Mikasa not on the verge of falling back asleep, would have been sorely tempted to taste. The fast battleship's three sisters on the other hand had no such reservations, and eagerly dug into their morning meal.

"You're not going to have anything, Mikasa?" Kirishima mumbled between bites of her black pudding.

"My boilers feel funny," the pre-dreadnought groaned. "I think some intake pipes are clogged…"

"Wonder how _that_ happened," Jukeini coughed innocently.

"…maybe I shouldn't have tried taxing myself getting to thirty knots…" At that statement everyone looked at her incredulously.

"You tried to break _thirty knots_ with your new machinery?!" Tōgō shouted in disbelief. "At _most_ we had planned you to catch up with Graf Spee's 28.7 knots; a tad past Nagato's was our goal. I bet you melted some fusible plugs running that hot!"

"What on earth did you put into mom?!" Hiei shouted angrily at the lieutenant.

"Haruna is _not_ okay!"

"My question is," Kirishima paused to wipe her glasses carefully, "how on earth was her breaking near-thirty even _a possibility?_ Even with the new hull, I don't think you could cram in that much horsepower into her."

Everyone paused to ponder that question.

"Well," Kongō began innocently as she casually munched on a treacle scone, "I did hear from Fuji that Mikasa was supposedly - MMPH!"

"We are _not_ talking about this," the pre-dreadnought shh'ed sweetly as her hand formed a death-like grip with Kongō's face. "Why don't you enjoy your breakfast, hm?"

"How the hell did Mikasa jump over the table and shush sis' so fast?" Hiei whispered nervously to her black-haired sister, refusing to take an eye off their self-proclaimed mother in case she magically teleported behind them as well.

"Kongō's the same whenever someone tries to embarrass her. It must be something they put in the steel at Barrows-in-Furnace," Kirishima concluded. "There are many mysterious that may never be solved; I guess we'll chalk this one up to Vickers madness."

Just then Goto and his secretary ship emerged from the doorway, their white faces betraying their concern at the scene unfolding before them.

"Don't mind me us, we're just making sure that the muffins remain unscathed."

"Oh! Admiral!" Kongō reddened and cleared her throat as she freed herself from Mikasa's clutches. "Care to join us for breakfast?"

"If you are not otherwise engaged at the moment," he ahemmed back, beckoning for Ōyodo to likewise join him at the Edwardian tea table. "Not like that, Mikasa," he added quickly as he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Oh. Well, do send me an invitation when you do," the battleship advised as she gave a Cheshire grin at a whistling teapot full of black tea, causing Ōyodo to gag uncontrollably.

"Will do," he returned evenly. "Kongō, do you happen to have blueberry jam for this muffin by chance?"

"Yep! Here, have the entire jar!"

"Thanks."

"Admiral," Ōyodo sweated nervously as she looked away from her selection just in time to see Goto snatch an entire basket full of English muffins and begin methodically coating each one with a thick layer of jam, "don't you think one is enough?"

"Nonsense," he waved the blueberry-coated knife scoldingly at the cruiser, "you can never have enough muffins."

"You've been eating them for breakfast every day ever since I met you."

"False. I went without the goodies for an entire week last week. Work comes first, then food y'know?"

"Then what do you call the things I've seen you snacking on while doing your paperwork?"

"Ah. Those are _American_ muffins, not _English_ ones. The blueberry taste isn't anywhere near the ones Kongō bakes. See?" he groaned as a took a bite. "Now the only thing missing is…"

"Some paperwork for you to do," Ōyodo finished, giving him a stack of documents on cue. Goto immediately dived into his work, his writing hand flashing across the table in a flurry of activity.

"It's a habit of his," the secretary ship explained at Mikasa's confused look. "He likes to entertain himself with light work-"

"Important work," he corrected, his face not once leaving the page. "I'm giving instructions to an admiral-to-be arriving soon, and working on fleet assignments in light of our…little situation."

"That's like child's play for you. I don't see you looking at the spreadsheets with a smile on your face whenever it's about supplies."

"Logistics aren't my forte. Managing people and ship girls on the other hand…" Goto made a gesture of dusting off his hands, "piece of cake. Well, mostly. That's the last time I invite _that_ Essex carrier to breakfast," he muttered under his breath. "Ernie still isn't letting me live that little incident down. Anyway, enough about me and my work. Lieutenant, Mikasa, are either of two going to have anything?"

"I'm…not hungry sir," the pre-dreadnought replied meekly, tactfully avoiding incurring the admiral's wrath with a retelling of her incredibly-risky conduct the previous night. "Think my bunkers are still stocked with coal from when I came back."

"Not even black tea?" Kongō asked in surprise.

She shook her head.

"Well, speaking of black tea, that reminds me of a funny story I have to tell you," Goto chuckled. "Mikasa, while you were still a…whatever Akashi said you all are before you become shipgirls (I didn't fully understand) did you happen to drink a lot of black tea by chance?"

"Uh…maybe?"

"Last afternoon, I got a very interesting and angry phone call," the admiral grinned, "from the Mikasa Preservation Society, a group of people who tried looking after you during your slumber. Apparently the Diet gave them the greenlight to survey your metal hull to check for any damage and whatnot. At first the complaints were rather trivial. Mannequins were found in positions that they shouldn't be in, smoke stains ruining your paintwork, and then they got to the boiler room…"

Mikasa's eyes widened in horror in realization.

"You mean the tea…it all…"

"Yeeepp," the admiral began laughing hysterically, "when they were finally able to force entry into the old compartments, the members were drenched in a two-meter high wave of tea, scones, and everything else you ate since you didn't have the boilers to process it all."

"I imagine the organization's head was not amused."

"Oh, he was not at all. But it was hilarious all the same. By the way, lieutenant, I hope I didn't ruin your breakfast by sharing that story."

"Actually it made me even hungrier while I nibble on this," Jukeini replied between bites, holding up some foodstuff that had been sickenly buried beneath coat after coat of jam and custard.

"Is that…Is that a muffin?" Goto asked, looking ready to vomit up the several dozen pastries he had already eaten.

"By Jove, it is!" Mikasa gasped in mock disbelief as she carefully wiped away an edge. "Jukeini you monster, what did the innocent muffin do to make you abuse it so?"

"It's actually really tasty!" came the muffled reply. "You can feel the fruity flavors of the jam really well on your tastebuds."

"But the poor muffin…"

"Is delicious."

"Personally, I think there are better ways to refuel oneself. I know I wouldn't eat something like that if I wanted to build steam. But to each her own, I suppose."

"Judging from the fact that Mikasa is here under her own power, I take it that the operation was a success, lieutenant?" Goto inquired.

"From what I can tell I'd say so. The five of us were just in the process of reminding Mikasa that there are more speed ratings than simply 'flank' and 'stop,' but otherwise she should be all set for duty. Well, after she receives some training with her new rigging and gets acquainted with Yokosuka first of course."

"The answer is no, lieutenant."

"But I haven't even said anything," Jukeini protested shiftily.

"Have you even been officially discharged from the hospital yet, or did you walk out against medical advice?"

"Got discharged this morning in the all the hubbub about Mikasa! Paperwork's all filed with the medical staff too if you don't believe me!"

"I believe you, but I also know you're still seeing a physical therapist for that casted arm and hip, and will be for at least the next month. As much as it surprises me how lively you are now considering you were near death less than two weeks ago, you're still not a kanmusu, so don't act like you can just shrug off those injuries with a trip to the bath. In fact, now you have me wondering how on earth did you get over here in the first place with those legs of yours."

"With _these_ ," she replied, smacking a _very_ familiar pair of crutches onto the table.

"So that's where my crutches went!" Mikasa shouted in relief.

"Found these stashed away in a corner somewhere while I was working on your refit. I'd say I'm putting these to good use in spite of our height differences, eh?"

"You're a persistent one, aren't you?" Goto sighed in defeat. "So you plan to hobble around like that all over Yokosuka until your limbs fully heal?"

"Not quite. I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air while Mikasa's at it. I've made plans with a few others to help show her around, so that way I can recuperate while she goes on a little adventure. Besides, I have some business I need to take care of."

"I'm glad you're willing to take our advice to heart," he smiled encouragingly. "But what exactly did you have in mind for Mikasa?"

"It's a pretty straightforward plan." Jukeini punched Mikasa in the shoulder. "Hey, what's that you're wearing?"

The pre-dreadnought cast her a bored look. "Why my black jacket-like tunic of co-AIEEE!"

Mikasa screeched and flushed bright red, instinctively curling into a ball to shield herself. "Don't look!"

"You're completely dressed still, mom," Hiei rolled her eyes. "You're just wearing a white-collared undershirt instead. You're not even showing any skin…"

"But…my black jacket…" she whimpered. "THIS IS WHITE! I don't want to wear white! It's a hideously bright color! What happened to my tunic anyway?" Mikasa demanded.

"It got pretty beat-up from everything it's been through and also began looking pretty patchy after your little 'expedition' yesterday. It was basically a total loss."

"No…my crew can fix it up, I believe in my repair crews…wait a second…where are they?" She demanded, realizing that for the first time in forever the pre-dreadnought had her entire body to herself.

"It's about time you noticed! I didn't fully catch onto what Akiyama or the Gensui were saying since they speak desunese, but from the looks of it they tried making arrangements with other kanmusu to undergo advanced training exercises. They all departed about half an hour before I woke you up."

"They'll be coming back, right? I'll be seeing them later today?"

"Of course! But first…" Jukeini's voice trailed off ominously. "How about a change of dress?"

"Since it's a request, I'll politely decline it."

 _Clomp._

The sinister faces of the Kongō sisters loomed over Mikasa, with the lead ship herself grinning maliciously as she laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Please…be our guests…accept our invitation, _dess_."

"…On second thought, I don't see why not."


	25. Dreams and Nightmares: The Ropes (Fairy)

**A/N:** In which several hundred men (unfortunately it appears that less than half of her original complement would live to see past 1905, with every single event in 1904 and 1905 considered) discover what the hell those noisy whizzing things are, among improved damage control. (Fragment 2/6)

* * *

"It's so damn early in the morning," a midshipman yawned violently as they paced up and down the deck of their temporary assignment, a destroyer named Akizuki.

"Yeah, talk about it," his partner grumbled in reply. "What the hell was Captain thinking assigning us to training on this tiny ship? Just because we're auxiliary crew, doesn't mean that we have it easier than everyone else. We already have enough on our minds knowing that we've coming back as…ghosts more than a century later."

"Oi, you there," the first fairy tapped an armed rifleman's shoulder. "You're part of the Special Landing Forces, aren't you? Have any idea what's going on?"

"I'm in the dark as much as you are," the soldier replied. "My guess would be marksmanship practice," holding up his Type 35 bolt-action rifle. "The Murata was bad even in our time, and I bet there are even better firearms than its replacement out there."

"But why on earth conduct target practice on a tiny destroyer?"

"Not just any destroyer," a native sailor interrupted, "Akizuki's a special girl. An incredibly useful little trooper in the Navy."

"What's her job?"

"You'll see," the fairy replied as the destroyer's captain appeared on the bridge.

"Atten…tion! I have been given orders from Vice-Admiral Akiyama and Gensui Tōgō to train you crew in the basics of anti-aircraft weaponry, and seeing as Akizuki was designed for that very purpose, you're in the right place!"

There was a long pause as Mikasa's selected crewmembers gazed at him dumbfoundedly.

"You mean that there's warfare…in the air?"

"Why yes…" the captain blinked, not quite understanding the question.

"How does a ship fight something in sky?" A sailor demanded.

"Easy," the officer pointed at the machine-gun nests all about the deck and patted a smug-looking turret. "You direct fire at the designated target with these."

"You mean you try and destroy airships with _peashooters_?" A fairy asked with a crooked grin, causing the rest of the auxiliary crew.

"Bwahahaaha!"

"This training is a _joke!_ "

"I don't think we have much to worry about. If machine guns can destroy take them down, then surely—"

 _Whrrrrrrrmmmm._ Something short and silvery zipped over their heads, making a loud rumble as it thundered past.

"What the hell was that?"

The crew screamed and yelped as a wooden dummy in the distance disappeared into a fireball of steam and smoke, apparently ignited by something the flier had dropped.

"Dragon!" Someone shouted out fearfully, and at once the deck descended into chaos.

 _Whrrrrrmmm. Brrrm._

"Here it comes again!"

"It's so fast!"

"Oh gods, there's _more_ of them!"

"Green ones headed our way!"

 _Whrrrrrrmm._

"Shoot it! Shoot it! Shoot it down!" One of Mikasa's lieutenants frantically pointed as some men hastily assumed positions, pointing their rifles and pistols skywards.

"For crying out loud, don't shoot! It's one of ours!" Akizuki's captain shouted in exasperation, desperately trying to get the Landing Forces to lay down their arms. The destroyer's crew, for their part, respectfully tried not to laugh.

"C-c-c-captain," one of the sailors whimpered fearfully from his position beneath a machinegun mount, "the future sure is scary, isn't it?"

"Since when did Japan have dragons on its side?" another asked.

"Those aren't dragons. Those are airplanes."

"Lies!" A younger-looking fairy shouted, jabbing a finger in the officer's general direction. "I fought in the Great War, so I know. Airplanes are slow and have two sets of wooden wings, not those graceful flying metal objects that play tricks with the human eye!"

"Well, that's an airplane. An Aichi D3A Type 99 Bomber, to be exact."

The crew ducked again as they heard a shrill whistling noise shortly followed by a loud report a good few hundred meters away.

"Those bombs sound like high explosive ones, captain. Two-hundred-and-fifty kilogram bombs, if I had to guess," Akizuki's gunnery officer called out.

"Aye. Looks like Hiryū is conducting a practice run," his superior nodded in agreement.

"Sailors," Akizuki's captain rumbled, casually strolling about deck and paying the passing aircraft little attention, "you were assigned to this destroyer for the morning in order to learn how to use Mikasa's anti-aircraft suites, an assignment that you laughed at. Having just seen your reactions, however," he casually adjusted his cap, "I will simply let you eat a slice of the humble pie, so-to-speak."

"No, please sir," a fairy trembled, "teach us how to fight aircraft."

"We'll do our best! We'll make mincemeat out of any hostiles ones we face!" another added.

"The Akizuki," he continued, pretending to ignore their comments, "is one of the Navy's finest anti-aircraft destroyers in the Navy. "Eight dual-purpose main-battery guns, forty-seven 25 millimeter anti-aircraft guns, and three Hotchkiss machine guns are all at your disposal. If there is anyone you should learn from," the fairy turned to face them, "it is us."

And so the hundred or so fairies assembled on deck gave radiant smiles, as if they had been told that their raises had been increased one-hundred fold.

* * *

 _Ratatatatata_

"Give more lead, you're just making the morning sunnier!"

"Understood!"

 _RatatatatataKTHUNK_

"We hit the wing!" The nest cheered in celebration as the dive bomber lumbered on with an ugly red splatter of paint.

"Not enough!" Their overseer reprimanded. "Keep shooting!"

"Torpedo bombers inbound in three minutes! Bearing: thirty degrees due west. Speed: 80 knots." An officer shouted.

"On my instructions, direct control at the designated aircraft! Follow the recommendations of the fire director as provided!"

Everyone gazed at the instrument expectantly as several green airplanes materialized in the morning mist, their engines humming loudly as they slowly prepared to attack some practice dummies. The pilots were completely unsuspecting of the fifty-eight or so anti-aircraft calibers shadowing them."

"Get ready…!"

* * *

"Second attack group reports ready for take-off!"

"Tomonaga's squadron approaching in 10 minutes!"

"All planes, launch!"

"All planes, launch!" An officer shouted down the speaking tubes.

"All planes, launch!" The landing signal officer waved frantically at the awaiting pilots on the flight deck. After checking their bearings and ensuring that everything was secure, six Type 99's rolled down the runway and buzzed away into the skies.

"How long does it take for you to deploy a group of these planes?" Tōgō inquired as he followed the black-and-white dive bombers' trajectory through his binoculars.

"Depends on the unit size," Admiral Yamaguchi replied. "A flight group of that number, it might take say, ten to fifteen minutes to prepare and equip? Launching those planes is a different story," he chuckled and patted the bridge affectionately, "Hiryū's gotten so good at adapting to her human-ship state that she can clear them for take-off as fast as she requests them with that quiver of hers."

"So you're saying," Hikojirō swallowed, "that you can launch several squadrons of planes _every few minutes_?"

"Squadrons are a larger unit of organization," the aviation admiral corrected, "so they take a little longer, but in summary the answer to your question is yes. Assuming that the elevators and runway is in working order, the launch and receive cycle is incredibly short."

"How do you shave off the extra time?" Tōgō cast Yamaguchi a curious look.

"We don't. Hiryū does."

"I don't fully understand your explanation."

"To us and the maintenance crewmen, repairing, rearming, and redirecting the aircraft feel like they take ages. There's no easily discernable difference in the elapsed times between now and then. However, once our minds are all clear and we give our orange-clad carrier the thumbs up, we discover it's only been two minutes instead of fifteen."

"Hm, so it's some sort of spiritual adrenaline rush…are the attacks as accurate, however?"

"Second attack group engaging target!" An officer reported as there was a crackling on the radio. "Results: two hits! One near the bow, the second over the engine room; enemy vessel taking on water and listing from our attack!"

"Or would be," Hiryū's captain Kaku Tomeo interjected. "Those were the results against a set of buoys arranged to resemble a destroyer approximately ten kilometers from here. Combined with the fact that Tomonaga softened them up with torpedoes about twelve minutes ago, had she been a real target we would have already sunk her."

"Hereafter, aircraft will be the most important arms," Akiyama murmured, frantically scribbling something in his pocketbook.

"Does he do this a lot?" Kaku asked as he watched the strategist mutter something, leaf back a few pages, and then continue writing, completely oblivious to the bewildered stares around him.

"This is nothing," Hikojirō chuckled. "Heihachirō and I both tried convincing him to get some bed rest before our big day today. When we checked upon him about an hour later, he was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Apparently, Saneyuki's idea of 'resting' is taping his notes above him and memorizing German submarine doctrines, the battlecruiser concept, and Japanese-American opinions on the role of aviation warfare."

"Saneyuki, don't be afraid to rest once in a while," one of Hiryū's officers chided him, politely attempting to wrest the pocketbook out of his hands. "You don't exactly have the constitution to push yourself about like that."

"But understanding these philosophies are important," Akiyama protested. "Warfare's changed considerably since I last studied it, and I don't want to humiliate myself or the fleet by opposing the clear versatility air combat can offer. Just as Shingen recognized the significance of firearms in medieval combat, so must I with aircraft's superiority."

"Indeed. It's a pity that none of you three were still around to weigh in on that debate; it took _him_ a long time to realize that," Yamaguchi replied casually.

"I acknowledge that aircraft are far more powerful than I initially gave them credit for," Hikojirō conceded, "but how does Hiryū fare when the target can strike back?" He pointed out towards the runway where Tomonaga's squadron was landing; more than a few of the aircraft returned with paint splatters in multiple locations. Tomonaga's plane itself was nearly unrecognizable, the green fuselage drenched in black-and-red splotches.

"Mm, You have touched upon a weakness that many Japanese aircraft commanders are still trying to remedy. We've tried training additional crew members in aviation maintenance and combat, but our air force reserves remain notably smaller and less cooperative than our American counterpart's. Combined with the fact that many of our aircraft were no longer top-notch by the time of Hiryū's death, it is not uncommon for us to take…considerable losses against the enemy."

"If that's the case, then how are you capable of fielding enough pilots to face the enemy each time?" Tōgō pressed. "If our crew's anti-aircraft practice on Tomonaga during his bombing run is any indication, even a green crew can eventually wipe out the most experienced air group."

"Ah," Yamaguchi looked down and gave a small smile, "So you three haven't realized it yet, haven't you?"

"Realized what, exactly?"

"We can't die."

"What."

"What?!"

"Explain, Tamon."

"Our lives are tied with our ship, Tōgō. So long as the ship girl we serve on lives, we will not die, even if we sustain mortal wounds. Kaku and I have already experienced it for ourselves when an enemy fighter crashed into the bridge; one moment we were desperately trying to escape and the next we were in our bunks at Yokosuka. When we 'die' we return to our port of call, you see. If Hiryū had been sunk in action, however…"

"Then learning what we will be facing and their capabilities will be our utmost duty. Mikasa will be protecting our lives, so we must do the same for her. You've alluded vaguely to an 'enemy' in our talks so far. I want everything you know about them. Akiyama?"

"I'll take notes."

"What I'm about to say next," Yamaguchi pursed his lips, "may not be to your liking…"

* * *

 _"_ _Row!"_

 _"_ _Row harder!" He shouted, hissing his displeasure through grit teeth._

 _"_ _C'mon men, row!"_

 _"_ _Maruyama, why are pushing yourself so hard?" An officer asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "You're just a band officer, no need to kill yourself trying to participate in rescue exercises with the crew."_

 _"_ _You're wrong," the band leader replied, panting furiously as he struggled to regain his breath. "We're sailors through and through, no matter what our duties may be. I won't let my musicians be outdone; I won't let myself be outdone. If we can't save you in battle, what good are we?"_

 _"_ _Maruyama…"_

"MARUYAMA!" someone shouted.

At once his eyes flew wide open, the warrant officer coughing up a stream of water from his lungs.

"Dammit Maruyama, we thought we lost you," Mikasa's chief engineer hissed.

"I take it then that our damage control session went awry?"

"It was a disaster," the fairy in charge in charge of operations, an engineer from the aircraft carrier Zuikaku, summarized briskly. "You tried counter-flooding the target to keep it even, but," he pointed at the half-sunken container floating in Tokyo Bay, "that was the result."

"You lot know how to flood compartments, but you did so to the wrong ones," the chief engineer added. "The result? You and a few other crew members nearly drowned trying to escape from the sinking crate when the situation clearly became hopeless."

"Damn…what could we have done? What _should_ we have done?"

"You should have tried pumping out the water rather than letting it keep pouring in," Zuikaku's fairy advised. "Though keeping the container even as it began to list wouldn't have hurted either."

"Maruyama, can I give you some strong advice and recommend that you and the other musicians get some rest? You've exhausted yourselves learning how to fight aircraft on the Akizuki earlier this morning; it's clearly affecting your capability to work cohesively and effectively."

"No…"

"No?"

"We're sailors first, musicians second," Maruyama growled. "I won't let you outdo us."

"But…"

"No buts!" The band officer snapped, slowly rising to his feet. "You remember what Akiyama said. The more people who know how to control the damage Mikasa sustains in battle, the better. I am no scholar, but I saw a section in the book he was reading about the aircraft carrier Taihō. All she took was one torpedo, ONE torpedo, and she was a total loss because her crew was ignorant on the best course of action."

"It was also a bad call on behalf of her chief engineer," Zuikaku's fairy chimed in once more. "Had he not been so impatient to return her to action she would have not been lost that day. Really Maruyama, I think-"

"Think what?! That the twenty-seven of us should just devote ourselves to making cheerful music and playing nurse for the dead and dying? No! We have a people to serve, a ship to protect, and a task that must be fulfilled. Originally we were messengers for the gunners, relaying important orders from the bridge to the crew. Now that she has speaking tubes, we have a higher calling. As a battleship, Mikasa will come into grave danger in the heat of battle, situations that can mean the difference between life and death. If we can't be there for her in our time of need, well then," he laughed dryly, "we should be shot." Maruyama sent the chief engineer and Zuikaku's officer a hard stare. "We're going to try again."

"What?!"

"Are you mad?"

"Tarō, help me open this hatch. We're going to try and refloat this container!"

"He's joking…right?" The aircraft carrier's fairy croaked as he watched the musicians dive back into the very same vessel they had nearly drowned in minutes prior.

"No," the chief engineer grunted, "that's Maruyama Hisajirō for you. A madman, that one is. He may be on the enlisted list as band leader, but he's more boatswain than conductor. During the Battle of the Yellow Sea, he and the others dashed about all over the ship delivering the officers' messages. More than a few of them gave up their lives doing so in the process."

* * *

"On the count of three, we're going to open this compartment and flood it. Tarō, you and the horn players start pumping out the water in the meantime, alright?"

"Got it."

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Go!"

"Steady now, keep her even!" Maruyama shouted as the torrent of water came rushing in.

"Pumping out the water from the rear now!" Tarō shouted.

"Maruyama, we've found this in one of the lockers!" A musician roared over the chaos. "It looks like a welding torch and some sheets of metal!"

"Excellent! Get to the repairs! The breech is in compartment thirteen!"

"It's been an almost an hour now…what's going on down there?"

"You four," the chief engineer barked, "get ready to dive in there. At the first sign of trouble, rescue the crew and then refloat the container."

"Don't think we'll need to," one of Mikasa's engineers objected as the previously-submerged stern of the container bobbed to the surface once more.

"Are they really doing it?" Zuikaku's officer shook in disbelief.

"Too early to say…don't screw up now, Maruyama…"

Suddenly the container's hatchet burst open, revealing a musician's relieved face.

"Maruyama! We've done it!" he shouted back down the metal cage. There was a chorus of cheers and chanting as each participant took a peek at the sea around them from the safety of their newly-refloated vantage.

"You know," Zuikaku's fairy turned to Mikasa's chief engineer, "I've seen many feats of valor in my lifetime and participated in some too, but I don't think I've ever seen a crew as dedicated to their goal as this one."

* * *

"PUT THAT FIRE OUT!" Lieutenant Omura thundered, watching as the men under his command struggle to pull out a hose.

"C'mon now, don't waste time!"

In an attempt to simulate a fire on deck, some men from the repair ship Akashi had agreed to ignite the propellant of some malfunctioning Type 3 San Shiki shells, but had forgotten about the small tank of AV gas they had stashed right beside them on the fire control grounds. The result? A ghastly inferno that threatened to devastate the entire pier.

"Don't try and beat at the flames, you fool," he hissed at a sailor who had taken off his shirt and was slapping at the flames. "Get a hose and help us, or at the very least a bucket of water or some sand."

"All of this because of AV gas, huh?" One of Mikasa's fairies scratched his head in disbelief.

"There's a reason why we were glad that Akashi didn't try and cram floatplanes into your battleship," one of the workmen explained as he hosed at the base of the fire, "they're notorious for being a hazard in battle."

"I'm inclined to agree," Omura replied, turning his head just in time to see the already out-of-control fire grow roots and surge forwards and engulf one of the firefighting teams ahead of them.

"Help! We're burning!"

"Shit!" a mechanic panicked, "I wasn't expecting it to expand that quickly."

"Fall back!"

"NO! Damn your eyes, coward!" The lieutenant lashed out angrily at the unfortunate fairy. "All teams, aim lower at its base! If this was Mikasa, we'd have lost her if you did something so cravenly as that!"

"What about the team in front of us?"

"Hand me a bucket," Omura dumped its contents all over himself. "I'm going in."

"What?!"

"Is he mad?" One of Akashi's fairies shook his head in disbelief as the elderly man charged in.

"Madness is his specialty. Supposedly his father was a supporter of Ōshio Heihachirō despite being a Chōshū man," a firefighter from Mikasa informed him. "There a rumors too that he was a member of the Sonnō jōi movement."

"You've got to be joking…I mean, I admit I believed heartily in the cause, 'Victory Disease' is what the Americans derisively called it I believe, but this…"

"I wish. Some whisper that he was involved in the plot to assassinate the merchant Richardson himself, but the magistrates dismissed the accusation on the basis that there was no solid evidence. His traditionalism has done him no favors, however. He may have been a fervent supporter of the Emperor, but his career has gone nowhere."

"And in that time, I've rescued all six of them," Omura cut in, carefully laying the last fairy on the pavement. "All of us are slightly singed," the officer stated, taking careful note of his clothes and their bodies, "but none worse for the wear."

"You know that we can't die in this state, right?" The repairman croaked feebly. "You didn't have to do that."

"Having a spine can be far more important than reason," Omura put up a finger scoldingly. "Many things that this country has done were deemed impossible by others, our war against China and Russia, for instance. By the way Norinaga, there were no 'rumors' about my involvement; I participated in it wholeheartedly, and I have no regrets for my actions. But what I did in the past it not important," he cleared his throat loudly, "so long as we do right now, that is all what matters. Such as driving the latest of Japan's foes back to wherever they came from. Revere the country, expel the enemy."

* * *

In case you're lost on Mikasa's crew members, I'll make a list when they appear again later this chapter (you haven't met all of them yet).

Any person given a complete name (family name and personal name) is a historical figure that served aboard her; _Saka no Ue no Kumo,_ in addition to a source I have been kindly forwarded, have been incredibly helpful in giving me some insight into her officers and crew.

As a side note:

On Lieutenant Omura: Omura isn't a historical person but an amalgamation of sentiments I imagined might be prevalent at some level large or small within the Meiji-era military. Although _Saka no Ue no Kumo_ is considerably well documented to the point historians have commended it, it is also a rose-tinted view of the era, recounting events in selfless terms (even the Russians are depicted as tragic figures from what I've read so far). Although Japan wasn't necessarily ultranationalistic in this era, it wasn't afraid to pursue colonial undertakings either: a major debate that lead to the Satsuma Rebellion in the 1870's was discussion about whether or not to invade and colonize Korea, a decision that was ultimately overruled but nevertheless caused a notable rift: Saigo Takamori, a man well known for his leadership during the Meiji Restoration as well as being a patron for Satsuma men, left the government, and eventually died leading the Satsuma Rebellion. Ōshio Heihachirō and Sonnō jōi were both anti-Shogunate movements (the former being unpopular while the latter considered an extremely radical branch of anti-Western sentiment), though Sonnō jōi is the more well known of the two. A considerable number of men, including Sakamoto Ryoma (who toned his beliefs down to become a major catalyst in the Meiji Restoration by rallying its greatest supporters, the Satsuma, Tosa, and Choshu domains), were to some extent involved or aware of the movement, whose slogan was "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarian." While it was apparently not a policy at any level, there were some motivated by it to assassinate leading Shogunate officials or even the merchant Lenox Richardson, who spurred Britain to retaliate by leveling a good portion of Kagoshima to the ground.


	26. Dreams and Nightmares: What Will We Do

"What Will We Do With a Battleship Early in the Morning?"

 **A/N:** Because this chapter is so long (it's 6 parts or so, this is **part 3/6** ), here is the third fragment detailing Mikasa's activities while her crew wander about. If you read this chapter just as it came off the press, note that I didn't realize until looking over it that FF fails to save my micro divisions, so my apologies if the pacing here and in previous chapters look awkward.

* * *

"Is there any reason why I'm being marched about blindfolded?" The pre-dreadnought demanded.

"We have a surprise for you, dess!"

"By the heavens above I sure hope it's not Hiei's cooking…"

"Hey! I was the Emperor's official ship in the 1930's, I know how to cook!"

"Which is why you and Kongō passed out cold when the two of you worked together to make the ultimate curry a few years ago…"

"I thought that was for us! I mean, some fourteen-inch shells in a meal never killed anybody right?!"

"Haruna disagrees! It is not normal to make rainbow faces! Kirishima even had to count to three to see if you were okay!"

"When Haruna voices her opinion with vivid imagery, I know it's bad," Mikasa snickered. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost! And Hiei doesn't make too bad of a curry, it's just, ah, exquisite, Mikasa-san! I mean compared to Ashigara's curry that could singe even an Indian's tastebuds, Zekamashi's instant curry, and the-uh 'curry' the aircraft carriers made, it was second to none."

"That's right," Hiei began audibly dancing, "if it wasn't for Nagato's love of DesDiv 6, we would have won first place."

 _Dunk. Thock._

"We're here, dess!" Kongō cooed as Mikasa felt the blindfold lift off her face.

"Welcome to our home! We hope you'll like to stay over sometime," the eldest fast battleship crossed her fingers together.

"Fascinating," Mikasa merely replied as she scanned about the room. It was rather apparent which side of the dormitory was Kongō's and which was the three sisters'.

In the center of the room stood a sturdy wooden table, very much like the ones her officers gathered around during important meetings. To its right was a series of bunks arranged for three people; this area of the room was rather Spartan, with only some woodcuts and photographs lining the walls. Mikasa smiled slightly as she took note of one of the pictures: it was one taken shortly after the end of World War I, with herself surrounded by the Kongō sisters. Those were amusing times back then (before the world seemed to have gone mad) with Kirishima looking rather uncomfortable with her posture while Haruna gave a radiant grin into the camera.

Meanwhile, to her far left was a planter box filled from end to end with budding tea plants, some of which had been clearly harvested for their pungent flavor. Beside it was a blown-up map of northwestern England and a slightly-smaller Union Jack. There was also small blue-and-white plaque emblazoned with the words "YOUR COURAGE, YOUR CHEERFULNESS, YOUR RESOLUTION, WILL BRING US VICTORY." The significance of such words was lost on her; Kongō was always cheery: a casual glance behind her at the twirling, miko-wearing dessboat emphasized her opinion.

That's when she noticed it, or rather several _its_ , as Mikasa took note of Kongō's trajectory and Kirishima's restful position atop her bunk. Much to her horror, it was everywhere! Not even Haruna was safe.

"Uh, Mikasa…is there something wrong?" Kirishima asked as Mikasa's head unhinged itself and gave an angry owl-like glare at the fast battleship's lower body.

"What is _that_ ," she demanded, poking the narrow strip of skin around Kirishima's legs suspiciously.

"Absolute territory, dess!" Kongō winked. "It's a fashionable new style, don'tcha think?"

"Kongō dear," Mikasa began sweetly, assuming a proper English accent, "I know you are extremely desperate to get inside Goto's trousers, but that is pushing it. You look utterly desperate with that thing."

"Actually," Kirishima cleared her throat, "Kongō is correct. Mainichi Shimbun had a discussion about it when we first started wearing it; apparently some television series made it popular a couple of years before we four first came back."

"I suppose that I might be a little _too_ close minded," Mikasa mused. "I always _did_ wonder if Azuma would burst a boiler at the time I wore a dinner jacket…"

"So would you like to try, Mikasa-san?" Kongō cooed.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The pre-dreadnought shouted, blushing furiously. "I'm adventurous, not mad! A knee-length skirt is the most I'll go."

"I do have some tartan skirts if you want to try them mom," Hiei offered. "They're a bit short on me, but with your stature they'll probably fit just right."

"A tempting offer, but I'm Barrovian, not Scottish. Got any in green and red?"

"Yep!"

"Good, save them for Asahi whenever she gets back."

"She's from Glasgow?" Kirishima started.

"Clydebank, but it's close enough. Anyway, we might as well get this over with. Mind if I scavenge the cupboards?"

"Got anything in particular mind?" Hiei called out.

"No, not really. I'm not that picky."

* * *

"Nope."

"No."

"Nah."

"No thanks."

"I'll pass."

"Never!"

"There goes our entire wardrobe…"

"Not that picky, she said," Hiei muttered as the four sisters stood clear of the ever-growing pile of discarded clothing.

"Seriously, how on earth do humans walk around in _this_ ," Mikasa mused as she carefully rolled down her black pencil skirt. "I feel trapped."

"It is meant for business," Haruna smiled uneasily. "It's not that bad really when you're walking steadily."

"I'd prefer a hakama over this any day, though unfortunately," she grabbed her forehead, "all you have are short skirts to complement the haori of your miko outfits."

"That's what stockings are for."

"Mmm, but still, I'd prefer something a bit comfier and less…suggestive if you will."

"Proper stockings under a skirt can be hardly considered suggestive," Kirishima countered. "If you want pants you can always see if the jeans California sent over are to your liking. She kind of forgot that I'm considerably taller than her, so they're pretty small."

"I saw them, but I don't like the colors. Ruggedness aside, they're a bit too bright. Aha, I've got it!" the pre-dreadnought's face lit up. "Kongō, you're a sensible woman, aren't you? Fancy me taking a peek at your clothes?"

"Go ahead!"

"You sure that's a good idea?" Kirishima mumbled through the corners of her mouth.

"Of course! We're both Barrovian after all!"

"I sure hope so," the spectacled battleship worried as the pre-dreadnought dove into the closet as if it were a swimming pool. They didn't have to wait long before she returned with her three-hundred-and-seventeenth outfit (unfortunately, yes, Kirishima was counting).

"Pretty marvelous, no?" Mikasa smirked as she adjusted her sun hat and patted down a long, brown fur coat.

"For some reason though I don't think it's supposed to do _that_ ," Hiei pointed at the long, wedding-gown-like train flowing behind the pre-dreadnought.

"Of course not; this was meant for someone of a bigger frame and a much taller stature. If I remember correctly this was Kongō's outfit when she first arrived in Japan," Mikasa smiled warmly as she recalled the memory, "and was expecting Japan to be some sort of autumnal tundra."

"I was expecting it to be cold, dess," Kongō shuffled in embarrassment. "North English winters aren't any fun."

"Not at all," she nodded in agreement. "Didn't change the fact that Asahi and I got a laugh out of your reaction. Like the British Empire, a true English joke doesn't happen without being at someone else's expense. That said, I might as well put this back where it belongs."

"And here I was hoping that we were done," Kirishima sighed as Mikasa resumed her search.

"Personally, I'm glad that she didn't go with that…if Goto found out about my little 'mistake' I don't think I would-"

"Hey Kongō," the pre-dreadnought stuck her head out. "What's with the leather harness? Do you go horseback riding or something?"

"Uh…you could say that, dess…."

"I didn't realize that there were stables on base."

"Well, it's not exactly a horse," Kongō amended, wracking her brain in a desperate attempt to dig herself out the ever-growing hole she found herself in.

"Wait. If the harness isn't meant for horseback riding then what on earth could you possibly…" Mikasa's eyes bulged out of their sockets in realization, the equipment falling to the floor with a heavy _thud_.

"Oh…my…God…"

"Not like that! Nope! Nope! Nope! That's not what I meant, Mikasa-san!"

"I did _not_ need to know that. At all."

"That's not the only thing I keep in there!"

"You mean…there's _more_ …?"

"NO! Just look!" There was a frantic rustling as the fast battleship dove inside the closet and began organizing her belongings. "I keep fancy stuff in here too, see? Evening gowns _here,_ summer dresses _there…_ you get the idea!"

"You just _had_ to have all your dresses tailored in the Empire silhouette, didn't you?" Mikasa asked distastefully as she held one against her torso and took note of the neckline.

"Hey, those are presents from Victory herself! Can't be that scandalous if an old timer likes it, no?"

"The Regency period isn't exactly my cup of tea. If only you had something with more a modest-aha!"

The pre-dreadnought emerged from the wardrobe victoriously, a familiar purple ball gown in tow.

"I can't believe you kept this dress after all these years."

"Oh! I almost forgot I had that," she looked away and scratched her head sheepishly.

"Almost?" Hiei snorted. "Sis' cried into that thing every night when we still thought you were going to be broken up, wore it every day after you were memorialized, and wouldn't put it down until one day Goto complimented her when she tried out a miko outfit."

"Is that so…to think she'd keep my old dress in such good condition…" her voice trailed off as she caught sight of something black and white stowed away in a small drawer. Mikasa opened it to reveal its contents.

"You even kept the eboshi I gave you shortly before I went away…"

"I gave it to Nagato before Pearl Harbor who in turn handed it to Yamato shortly before Operation Ten-Go, but both of them thought it would be best to hand it back to you if you ever woke up."

"It's not mine," she laughed softly. "A corvette named Kaimon gave it to me before I sortied out to Port Arthur. I never understood her logic, but accepted it all the same. Sometimes, I wonder if she knew something I didn't; afterwards she would always treasure her time with me as if it would be her last…"

"Did she make it through the war?" Kongō asked worriedly.

"No…It's odd, isn't it? Those of us who received that hat always seemed to know when to pass it on, as if it's an hourglass…"

"Yes…hopefully you won't ever need to hand it off again…"

Mikasa approached her old friend and affectionately ruffled her hair.

"Don't worry Kongō, I'm not going away ever again," the pre-dreadnought assured her as she undressed and began tying the hat around her chin, "I promise."

* * *

"It's a bit cold this morning, don't you think?" Mikasa questioned as she stroked her bare neck. Usually she wouldn't complain, having slept through blizzards, whiteouts, and below-freezing temperatures during her decades-long rest, but something constantly felt funny, as if something was tingling her funnels. It didn't help either that it was the only region of her body that wasn't shielded from the elements by her new outfit.

"I've seen colder ones," Kirishima shook her head in disagreement, "though we're probably not the best ones to ask. Having so many water tubes means that we always feel nice and cozy. Besides, once your boilers build your fires long enough you acclimate to the weather."

"I suppose that's a problem with coal-burning engines," Mikasa sighed. "I have to worry about building enough steam," she stroked her unusually quiet stomach, "which normally take the firemen hours. Meanwhile you four are simply touch and go. Anyway, so where are we headed now?"

"A rescue mission, dess!" Kongō raised her index finger cheerfully as they made the trek up a small hill where an archery dōjō sat. "An aircraft carrier has stolen your prince, so we are here to make sure that the guilty party does not escape you!"

"You do realize that Admiral is a former samurai from Satsuma right, Kongō? If anything, it will be the aircraft carrier that needs rescuing."

"As expected of his lover," Kongō smirked knowingly, "you know his strengths and weaknesses _very_ well."

"For the last time, Kongō," Mikasa rolled her eyes, "we're not like that."

"Oh? Then what are you two then?"

"It's really complic-"

 _Whrrrmmm. Whrrm. Whrrrm._

The pre-dreadnought nearly lost her footing as three strikes of white, silver, and green zoomed past her, barely evading the mountainous peak of her eboshi. When she returned to her feet, Mikasa came face-to-face with a smirking, green dōgi-wearing markswoman.

"Ah, Mikasa," the markswoman smirked, "thanks for giving my pilots a little challenge on their morning run. I'm afraid you barely missed Marshal-Admiral Tōgō and the others; Hiryū left for fleet exercises on Tokyo Bay with the Akizuki sisters. Tamon's been keeping them quite entertained with the possibilities of aviation warfare."

"You shouldn't treat warfare like a game, Sōryū," a familiar voice rang out from inside the building. "Combat is an art that should be taken seriously. Besides," the voice's pony-tailed speaker continued as she walked out beside her dark-haired partner, "you missed."

"I don't think _strafing the target and hitting it within a stone's throw of the bullseye_ can be considered a 'miss.'"

 _Kthunk. Kthunk. Kthunk._

In a flash Kaga whipped out her yumi and fired off three groups of fighters in rapid succession, all of whom closed in on the training dummy with incredible speed and accuracy. Everyone clapped as Kaga's pilots hit the mock-up so hard that the target tipped over into the sea, a gaping hole where its chest had once been.

"Huh, that was a bad shot," the carrier pouted quietly. "My hand must have slipped a bit."

"Foul! I call foul!" Sōryū protested hotly. "Your Model 52's are more advanced than my Model 21's, so of course they'd perform better."

"Then do you want to try with wooden arrows, then? Maybe I'll actually be able to see the damage this time…Akagi, would you like to join us?"

"I'd love to!" she beamed, "though, how about we start off this little match with an opening shot by Yokosuka's latest ship girl?"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Mikasa gave a start and raised her hands in the air as everyone began looking at her expectantly. "Akagi, I'm no aircraft carrier; you should know this!"

"That may be true, but you've been around since the Meiji Era," Sōryū grinned, "surely all the martial spirit has molded more than your soul?"

 _No…Admiral and the others would sometimes reminisce about practicing the arts, but aside from Kaimon's lessons it was a dying skill._

 _But how can I tell them that?_ She worried, looking at their eager eyes. _They must think I'm Nasu no Yoichi because of Tsushima…the pressure is even worse because Kongō and the others are here_ , her heart sinking as the fast battleship eagerly exchanged stories about the power of English bowmen at Agincourt and Crécy.

 _"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror when you're concentrating?" Kaimon interjected as she casually fanned herself with her dark dōgi. "You look utterly terrifying."_

 _"I do?" she replied nervously, relaxing the short bow's string to glance at the old corvette._

 _"The fact that you're asking me makes it even more frightening," the warrior continued as if Mikasa had not spoken. "It's almost as if you hide your true self all the time, so when you can't focus on concealing it it comes out all at once."_

"So I assume that this one arrow is my only shot?" she asked the green-clad carrier.

"Aye."

"The opening shot should be the only shot if it's done correctly," Kaga nodded in agreement. "Feel free to take your time; an accurate arrow is the best arrow."

 _Relax, Mikasa, no pressure._

 _You won't fail Kaimon. You learned from the best, and skills such as these simply lie dormant, lying in wait for the right moment._

Carefully, she pulled back the string and took careful aim at the distant target, which Akagi's pilots had courteously moved closer to a range of about two hundred meters. She glanced at the target one final time before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

 _Kaimon, this is for everything you've taught me._

 _SCHWOOP!_

The arrow flew high in the air, arcing to the point it seemed to kiss the sun before falling with a loud _thud_ into the dummy.

"Phew," Mikasa breathed in relief as she saw the arrow's feathery shaft protruding from the dummy's chest, well within the bullseye.

"Great shot!"

"Wow! As expected of Mikasa-san, dess!"

"Not bad for being out of practice," Kaga gave her a genuine smile, "but I can do better."

 _SCHWOOP!_

The pre-dreadnought did a double take as the battleship-turned-aircraft-carrier's volley pierced the target's very core: the dummy's heart.

"Did, did you just," she sputtered, but before she could get any further _another_ arrow whistled through the air and cleaved Kaga's arrow neatly in two, again landing perfectly in the center of the target. Akagi merely giggled in response as she eased her yumi.

"So accurate…" Mikasa whispered in awe. "Are the three of you like this?"

"I can be!" Sōryū bellowed as she fired her arrow, watching it come to rest just a notch off-center. "The Kidō Būtai does not disappoint twice; our best is fueled by our resolve! Even when the United States finally defeated us in battle, Hiryū gave their carriers a hard time, crippling one of them!"

"…The Kidō Būtai…?"

"It's an old term describing our former battle formation during the War made from the First and Second Carrier Divisions. Hiryū and her half-sister Sōryū form the Second Carrier Division, while Akagi and I comprise the Navy's crack First Carrier Division," Kaga explained, the pride dripping into her voice. "Since then, we've vowed to atone for our mistakes by wiping the abyssals off the face of the earth. Marksmanship is our specialty. I know you may be afraid of the power of more modern aircraft, having seen their power during our disgraceful absence, but I promise you that you will be safe when we are nearby."

"Of course," she amended as the sound of footsteps and giggling emerged behind them, "I cannot confidently state the same for _another certain_ carrier division," casting a thinly-veiled scornful expression at a trio of newcomers. The first two wore matching red skirts and dō armor, though the former had her grey hair in twin tails and wore an ash-black undercloth in comparison to her counterpart's free-falling white hair and matching top. Behind them trailed a familiar black-haired green carrier who gazed at the two women with a reverential expression. Only the twin-tailed carrier seemed to have taken notice of Kaga's insult.

"You calling us bird farms again, you old battleship of a carrier?" she demanded, a pinch of annoyance blending into her tone.

"No," Kaga replied innocently, pretending to polish her bow, "I was simply telling Mikasa that we weren't the carrier division to have our battle be dubbed a 'turkey shoot' by the enemy."

"I certainly hope you mentioned how a certain _two_ divisions lost a battle in five minutes," Kaga's opponent coughed loudly.

"Then how about we settle this old fashioned way?" The former Tosa-class battleship offered, pulling an arrow from her quiver.

"I thought you'd never ask..." the twin-tailed carrier returned, producing her own bow. "Do you want to set the conditions or shall I?"

"Buckle up Mikasa," the black-haired green carrier whispered, giving the pre-dreadnought a pat on the shoulder, "you're about to see the two perform an amusing little ritual."

"Katsuragi, was it?" the battleship presumed.

The Unryū-class carrier bobbed her head in agreement. "I'm honored that you remember me in spite of my little outburst in the hospital," she looked down in embarrassment. "Feeling better? I confess I almost didn't recognize you with your fancy ball gown, gloves, black tights, and hat."

"A bit frosty for my liking, but otherwise fair weather. On the topic of my attire, it's a lovely eboshi, no?"

"You almost convinced me that you grew taller," Katsuragi smirked, "but then I realized how short you are when I had to look down."

"I'm glad that it's giving me _some_ shred of dignity," Mikasa rolled her eyes, "unlike those two quarrelling over there. I take it that they have an old score that was never properly settled?"

"Zuikaku-senpai and Kaga-san were mortal enemies even when they were still both carriers serving in the IJN. Apparently it was so bad that the admiralty had to assign the two to different fleets when the first came back."

"Did Zuikaku look at Kaga the wrong way or something? What happened?"

"Dunno. It was a nasty spat between them though, whatever it was, but it's since simmered down into friendly banter. You see, there's a method to their madness. First, Zuikaku lets Kaga set the rules, but then she complains about them."

"Five hundred meters? Really?!"

"Any further and I fear you'll assassinate the Prime Minister."

"But the Diet convenes in the complete opposite direction, and dozens of kilometers away from here."

"Exactly."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

"So, Zuikaku will pick the terms, which Kaga surprisingly accepts unconditionally."

"Single arrow, one thousand meters. Whoever hits the target is the winner."

"Understood."

"In theory it sounds like a solid plan, but in practice it's not."

"You ready you old battleship?"

"In the time it took for you two ask that question I could have fired off two arrows: one to answer your challenge and another to seal your mouth shut."

"Is that so…let's see how your words hold up!"

 _Kthunk_. _Kthunk_.

"Zuikaku will always strike before Kaga, but Kaga will be the better markswoman."

"You're slow, Kaga," Zuikaku smirked triumphantly, "my arrow hit the bullseye before you could even release the bowstring."

"You're a bad shot, Zuikaku," Kaga smirked in reply, "my arrow hit sung true and hit home hard. As you said, five minutes can change anything, so why waste such precious time doing it twice when one volley would be enough?"

"Therefore," Katsuragi concluded, "they'll argue it for a little longer, then decide to save their breath for another time. Seeing as Zuikaku was the only one able to stand up to America's legendary aircraft carrier in repeated clashes, I like to think that she is the true winner, though," she reddened slightly and began mumbling something.

"Hm?"

"I said," Katsuragi mumbled once more.

"I can't understand you."

"Oh, Katsuragi's nee-san's number one fan," the white-haired carrier smiled sweetly. "I'm Shōkaku by the way, Zuikaku's sister. It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine…"

* * *

"Ryūjō, Sōryū, Hiryū, Shōkaku, Zuikaku…"

"So, Mikasa-san," Kongō sniffed and aah'ed into her tea as the quintet paused to partake in the British pasttime, "are you starting to know your way about?"

"…Amagi the Unryū-class carrier, Unryū, Katsuragi…"

"Mikasa?" Kirishima asked uncertainly as the pre-dreadnought ignored her, continuing to list off names on her hand.

"…Akizuki, Terizuki, Hatsuzuki, Yūbari, Akashi-the-not-armored-cruiser…"

"MIKASA!"

"Hm? What? Oh, right," Mikasa's cheeks flushed slightly, "I should be spending time chatting with you four rather than jabbering off names."

"More than that," Haruna piped up with her signature sense of optimism, "don't be afraid to dig into the little sandwiches and snacks we've made for this occasion! It wouldn't be okay if Mikasa starved herself to death."

"Maybe Akashi did something wrong to my boilers, but I'm _still_ not feeling that hungry. Perhaps it's because my firemen are away," she mused thoughtfully, scratching her chin.

"Well," Hiei retorted between bites, "you're not missing much. This is just a midday snack so it's okay for us to shovel them into our mouths like it's no tomorrow, but come lunchtime," she gave a violent shudder.

"It's a pity," Kirishima stated carefully, measuring her tone with every word, "that humans do not have the stomach capacity that we do. Sometimes it's nice have a little chat with the navy personnel, you know like sharing a bowl of ice cream or a rice ball, but the problem is that it always _never_ ends up being one. For us it's always five. Or ten. Or twenty."

"It's even worse when the Iowa-class battleships or some other American battleship class come over," Hiei soured slightly. "They've almost perfected the science of eating by _not_ eating; instead they become giant vacuum cleaners and suck the dining table dry. It's not because they lack proper etiquette or anything of that sort, but when you're an 800 foot long giantess forced to make do with a human-like stomach there's simply no humanly possible way you can savor every bite when doing so hardly dents your appetite."

"Don't forget the Yamato sisters," Kirishima added darkly, "there are no words to accurately describe the high-pitched screeching sound the logistics department makes whenever Yamato, Musashi, or Shinano give an embarrassed smile for emptying the mess's rice cooker. Which is the size of a small shipping container."

"Or both the Yamato _and_ Iowa sisters together eating at the same time in the same base."

"Or the Yamato _and_ Iowa sisters _and_ Akagi _and_ Kaga eating at the same time in the same base."

There was an ominous silence as the Kongō sisters digested that final image.

"Actually, I don't want to imagine that."

"Their appetites are that bad, eh?" Mikasa stared at them fascinatedly.

"The nine of them are well worth the hundreds of pounds of food required to keep them well-fed, but you could keep a mountain village full for a month with the meals they go through in a few _days_ , assuming that they're on human meals and not bunker fuel like we are at the moment."

"Speaking of mealtimes, how about we finish up, dess? There's still plenty to do before lunchtime, and besides," Kongō whipped up a telegram a fairy had forwarded to the bridge, "Mikasa's crew will be returning for duty in a few hours to perform gunnery practice with us, and," she turned the memo over, "apparently Jukeini will be eating with us."

"What on earth has she been doing this entire time? I thought she would be accompanying us but that girl scarpered off somewhere."

* * *

 _Knock. Knock._

"Enter."

"You wanted to see me, Admiral?"

"One moment, Ernie," Goto pulled the telephone aside and whirled about. "Actually yes," the middle-aged man raised an eyebrow in surprise, "though I wasn't expecting you to pick up on that little cue I gave at breakfast until a little later in the day."

"Working in the JSDF's kanmusu division comes with its own merits, including recognizing when I am needed for duty."

"As expected of Hatakaze's valiant officer," an older man sitting beside the Japanese admiral chuckled in greeting, "I've heard of your bravery during the Toshima Incident. You made Shimada and the Navy proud that day. Vice-Admiral Mac Stephens of the United States Navy, present commander of the 7th Fleet Activities in Yokosuka," he extended a welcoming hand.

"The pleasure is mine sir," she replied in acceptance. "I take it that whatever you two wish to discuss about is of utmost importance?"

"It's of extreme importance," Stephens continued to smile, though his eyes informed her of the gravity of the situation, "and three of us wanted some input from you first as you are the most knowledgeable out of all of us on the matter."

"The three of us?"

"A potential admiral-to-be," Goto chimed in, again distracting himself from his phone call. "Though it appears that a derailment near Hikone means that he's running late."

"I think that's the first time I've ever seen a train run late in Japan …"

"It's definitely not a frequent mishap, Mac, though ever since the abyssals have scared people away from taking to the sea or even the air, it's definitely become a common event."

"Aye Goto. It's a damn shame that they got the jump on us again just when things were dying down…"

"A combination of overconfidence in the initial intel reports and the audacity in the attack are to blame. Who would have thought that the abyssals would have tried a land invasion again after their failed campaign in Northern China? There were rumors that Okinawa might be a target since we still have a stronghold of stubborn citizens making residence there, but to attack one of the most well-defended regions in Japan…"

"Don't forget that the supply losses were a result of the Prime Minister prioritizing the safety of the civilians over our immediate military strength, but that's not important right now." The American Vice-Admiral turned to the lieutenant. "Goto can fill you in on the exact details later, but to keep it brief the Seventh Fleet is in a bit of a bind right now. As the United States's presidential election lead to a political gridlock of the likes the country hasn't seen since 1876 (a state worsened by the recent assault on Yokosuka and Tokyo in spite of our presence), there's humongous bipartisan pressure from Congress for a demonstration of military might, not only to improve public opinion but to also give both sides some room to maneuver in preparation for the ultimate compromise. Such a demonstration can be found in the Yellow Sea, which in spite of being chock-full of abyssals is also the object of saber rattling by the DPRK. My orders are to make way to Busan and begin conducting exercises with the ROKN with all due haste."

"Beg pardon sir, but I'm simply a lowly lieutenant. The calculations and planning for such operation, it's—"

"The assembly of such a fleet to assist Vice-Admiral Stephens is not your job but mine," Goto stated firmly, returning the telephone to its place on his desk. "I already have a list of kanmusu in mind for the operation. It will mainly be a force of destroyers, for not only can they keep up the pace with the American Arleigh-Burkes and supercarrier, but they will also be the most versatile warships to respond to any abyssals the fleet might face. In spite of the benevolent gluttony our battleships and aircraft carriers put us through, a fleet carrier will also be deployed so that Stephens's fleet is not at the mercy of abyssal spiritual shenanigans. _However_ , this also means that the fleet will be woefully underpowered in the event of surface action. It would be preferable if there were some larger-caliber guns that could be fielded for fire support while having say, the appetite of a cruiser."

Jukeini gave a start.

"You want to deploy Mikasa."

"Only if you believe that she is up to the task." The admiral looked away. "Resources will not be a concern; the admiralty's in the process of setting up coaling stations at all our bases for her. Her readiness on the other hand…it's quite the gamble. On one hand I believe that she has the fighting spirit for the job; on the other hand I'm not certain if she can accustom herself to World War II technology. I don't want to be the one to send her to her death. I'd rather be demoted and hanged than throw away lives so needlessly. So, Lieutenant Tōgō, can Mikasa do it?"

"Well…her crew is off running practice drills with the other kanmusu, and Kongō planned to conduct gunnery practice with her later this afternoon…so I can't really reply definitively yes or no until I see the results…"

"Then you have answered our question. We will be watching Mikasa's progress closely over the next few days. By the way, lieutenant," Goto cleared his throat, "Akashi wanted me to remind you to pick up the presents you asked her to stash in her workshop, or Yūbari's going to use them as experiment fodder."

* * *

"Faster! Harder!" a purplish-blue-haired girl chanted as her legs straddled some submerged object, handily diving into the water as it made impact with some concealed target.

"Is that normal for submarines?" Mikasa asked coolly, her poker expression concealing the sheer embarrassment radiating from her cheeks at the girl's remarks.

"Iku's the resident pervert," Nagato groaned in reply, rubbing her temples as she felt a migraine coming on. "Though usually she calms down when Taigei's around. As a submarine tender, she's their adopted mother, though even Taigei's presence isn't enough to completely deter Iku lewding about. Usually, we're forced to accept it as a 'perk of the job.'"

"Shooting out my best~!"

"Does she do anything constructive, in spite of her behavior?

"Oh yes, yes I do," the submarine grinned, giving a torpedo an affectionate stroke. "With these oxygen torpedoes o'mine I've penetrated many ships in my time, big ones too! Let me see…"she whipped out her right hand and began counting. "With my torpedoes I've made Wasp, O'Brien, North Carolina, and Vander? scream…"

"For crying out loud those are our _allies_ now, Iku," Nagato sighed. "How about you describe your _other_ duties you undertake now as a kanmusu?"

"Oh, you mean like the annual abyssal pin-up calendar~?"

"NO! The other duties!"

"Fine. Goya here," Iku dove back down and corralled her confused pink-haired friend, "and I usually work together to gather intel on the enemy, though that's not necessarily our crowning achievement. You see, the two of us do what we know best."

"And that's being lewd?" Mikasa retorted boredly.

"Close! We travel abroad, deep into the heart of abyssal territory, and sink their shipping. Our record's what, thirty transports sunk in one cruise?"

"Thirty-four transports, and the equivalent of 64,000 tonnes of human shipping with their supply ships."

"Yeah, see? We get dozens of them in one trip, and the best part is they're completely oblivious to our presence! In fact, we have a little name for this strategy…"

"Don't say the name, dechi," Goya groaned. "My body aches just thinking about it."

"Orel cruising! Get it? Orel? Oral?"

"Har har har."

"Iku, that's enough," Nagato said tiredly. "Get some food and rest, because in another hour you're going to be helping Mikasa and the Kongō sisters with gunnery practice." At that statement all the color drained from Iku's face.

"H-h-hey, I don't mind doing business with battleships, but five is a bit much…"

"You're not the target this time Iku," the towering battleship pinched her nose, "you're going to be monitoring their shell trajectories and reporting the results."

"Oh." The submarine's face brightened up considerably as she began looking at Mikasa up and down. "I look forward to playing with your twelve inch shells."

"Just a polite warning," the pre-dreadnought replied cheerfully, lifting up the skirt of her purple ball gown and pointed at her black tights, "I have submersible torpedo tubes and a ram."

"Well then…" Iku scratched her head, "I guess two really _can_ play at that sort of game…and I guess battleship-on-submarine action really isn't my sort of thing…"

"I'm surprised you didn't erupt at her, Mikasa-san," Kongō muttered through the corners of her month as I-19 backpedaled into the ocean and disappeared from view.

"That's because she's _almost_ as bad as Kaimon," the battleship murmured back. "Almost. Iku says innuendo to get a rise out of you; Kaimon is just casually perverted."


	27. Dreams and Nightmares: The Art of Eating

**A/N:** Just some additional thoughts I wanted to share before posting fragments 4-6 of the 2nd chapter in this set:

In the interest of avoiding modern political discussion be it on Korean presidents or European policies, the timeline in this universe deviates starting in 2010 (more like 2012 or 2014, but the first major difference is in 2012). Although there may be references or parallels to modern events since the divergence (such as the earlier mentioned political gridlock in the United States), the actors in those events (if they are ever given names) are completely different from our own, unless the tenure of their office extended past the deviation point (i.e. an actual American senator elected in 2010 might be mentioned by name until leaving office after his six year term in 2016, at which a new OC will be given).

My interest is in writing an adventure story first, with politics being secondary. When I wrote "The Eboshi," I did so with the tune of Joe Hisaishi's "Summer" in mind. It actually fits pretty well with Kaimon's narrative.

References to Mikasa as "Japan's strongest battleship (c. 1905)" aren't intended as hyperbole; contemporary periodicals that I have found all proclaim her as a modern marvel in engineering, with British observers claiming that she was easily the finest battleship in the world. For the IJN in particular, she was the first battleship to feature Krupp armor (the armor more commonly found in later battleships); her five friends were all designed with Harvey Nickel, which was prone to spalling upon being hit, even if the ships themselves had 'thicker' belts. She was also apparently based off a modified (and 'buffed') Formidable-class pre-dreadnought, though some historians disagree with that claim (more on that later).

With that said, have fragment 4/6. ( **Edit: Dagnabit FF not again with the formatting!)**

* * *

"I thought you said you weren't mad at her!"

"I was speaking hypothetically of course," Mikasa picked at her fingers casually, "let us say that someone, hypothetically speaking, gave her the bruising of her life, and hypothetically, caused her to sustain damage that required repairing. I'm not talking about hull damage or anything like that, just, shall we say, disabling certain equipment or weaponry."

"Well, hypothetically speaking, if someone were to harm her, or any other kanmusu for that matter in such a manner, Goto, Akashi, and the repair crews would get on your case as sometimes repairing those things can be expensive," Kirishima took off her glasses and studied them. "And depending upon how extensive the damage is, it can mean something as simple as eating steel-laden food, or a trip to the docks."

"Docks? You mean you simply park yourself at a pier and our hulls start repairing without further ado?"

"No. We have a series of public baths where kanmusu can rest in while their crews do the repair work, though," she pointed at an awkward clearing amongst the buildings, "there's virtually no privacy at the moment."

"Yamashiro's in there now if you want to talk to her," Hiei mentioned.

"Do we have time? Are you four hungry yet?"

"Not yet; we can stop for a little chat if you want. Fusō's probably there making sure that her sister is alright."

"What happened to Yamashiro?" Mikasa asked as the dreadnought's injuries became visible. There were several gashes and burn marks all over her back and neck.

"She took a really bad hit from dive bombers during the attack a few weeks ago. One of them somehow actually penetrated her deck and blew open her sides below the waterline. Normally, even with damage like that Yamashiro would be back in service within a week at most thanks to crews working around-the-clock, but as you know, the abyssals…" the five of them made faces and grimaced.

"Get well soon, you shitty battleship!" A girl shook her fist menacingly as she approached the resting dreadnought and gave her a present.

"That wasn't very nice of her," Mikasa frowned, but her expression softened slightly when she noticed that the girl lingered behind to watch Yamashiro.

"Who's the purple-haired girl?"

"That's Akebono, an Ayanami sub-class destroyer. She has a foul mouth, but she means well. Yamashiro's only alive because of the girl's bravery in towing her to safety."

"What's she like?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I can you hear you, you know," Akebono rumbled. "Not sure why you want to talk to a destroyer like me."

"Well, you do perform important roles for the fleet," Mikasa scratched her chin thoughtfully as she sat beside the Fusō sisters, taking note of their tall, majestic pagoda masts resting like crowns atop their heads. "The attack on Port Arthur was conducted by torpedo-boat destroyers, you know. Besides, I heard of your conduct during the defense of Tokyo and Yokosuka. A job well done, if you ask me."

"Anyone else would have done the same," Akebono dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I'm just making sure that Yamashiro here isn't about to starve to death while she wails for her sister all day."

"It's not all _that_ bad," the battleship protested hotly. 'Fusō and I are bad luck magnets, y'know, so I don't want to put her in danger. By the way, thank you Mikasa for paying me and sister a visit. I was worried you'd forgotten about us," she waved a spoon about.

"I didn't realize you were stationed here, but I am glad to see you again," Mikasa smiled in return. "What's that you're eating?"

"It's a mess-issue repair kit," the dreadnought moaned happily, digging into the green bucket to take another scoop. "Goto was kind enough to issue me one of the buckets that Akatsuki and her sisters hauled from Ōminato."

"Food? In a bucket?"

"It's a way of speeding up the repair process," Fusō explained, kicking off her propeller shoes as she gazed at the blue sky, "the Admiralty discovered that with the help of fairies, they could assemble some MRE-like provision that could either accelerate the healing of our bodies or give the crews a sugar-high that motivated them to work faster, depending upon what they put in it. Yamashiro and I know how they work quite well," she said sadly.

"At least they taste good," Yamashiro purred in a rare fit of optimism. "It amazing what kind of flavors they can put into these things."

"What does that one taste like?" Mikasa asked curiously.

"Hard to say…maybe like…beans with turkey? Huh? Sister, why are you laughing…?"

* * *

"Oi, you Tosa battleship of an aircraft carrier, did you eat my curry?" Zuikaku sent daggers at Kaga upon discovering that her lunch had vanished without a trace after leaving it unattended for a mere minute.

"The Pride of the First Carrier Division would not stoop to something so low as thievery."

"Oh? Then what's that behind you?"

"This polished plate is a fine example of porcelain. I strongly encourage that you harass someone about your lost lunch elsewhere. If there was a curry on this table, it is gone now."

"Really, Kaga-san…" The carrier leaned over and dabbed her finger at a food stain on Kaga's cheek. "Then what is this?"

"Some prey that my birds brought in while the turkey was in the oven."

* * *

"I truly didn't appreciate my metabolism until now," Mikasa stared with her jaw slightly agape as she watched an all-out brawl break out between the two carriers, Akagi and Shōkaku merely looking on as they downed their meals faster than a speeding bullet.

"Aw yeah, it can get pretty dead-gum bad," Ryūjo nodded in agreement as she looked down at her own generous helping. "It makes you kinda glad that it all worked out in the end, dunnit? I mean, withou' food imports from the United States, Russia, an' China, we wouldn't exactly starve, but we wouldn' be eatin' like kings either."

"Russia's… _supplying_ us with _food_? Are you sure it's not poisoned or anything of that sort? The last I heard, those former serfs were on the verge of starvation and mutiny."

"I know you bear a grudge against the Russians, Mikasa, but what Ryūjo said is true," Kirishima took off her glasses. "While Japan has a considerable raw output when it comes to food production, it's rather pitiful in terms of meeting the calorie requirements. From what Goto's told us the Diet was struggling to reach its goal of 45% self-sufficiency for decades, which nosedived to 40% when the abyssals and ourselves started showing up. The other three aforementioned countries on the other hand are either self-sufficient or close enough that they can afford to dip into the food reserves to help us out, but it's up to us to make sure that the shipments and their equivalents make it to their destinations safely."

"I see…our engineering is being put to the test…" the pre-dreadnought paused to survey her fellow counterparts, from fellow Vickers-built dessboat to the native-built destroyer Akatsuki, who waved happily from the table where she sat with her three sisters.

Mikasa would the first to confess her doubts about native shipyards, remembering Kaimon's own disparaging comments about the time it took for shipwrights to construct a simple screw-engine corvette.

But perhaps things had improved since Kaimon's launch. Kawachi for instance was a big adorable little thing, waddling everywhere with her numerous winged turrets. Furthermore, Nagato was a towering juggernaut who (were her foes ignorant of her occasional bouts of immaturity) was more than capable of cowing enemies into submission, and if the opinions on this "ultimate battleship" Yamato was any indication she was the spiritual avatar of the country incarnate.

Of course, that assumed that Yuzuru Hiraga and other leading architects had learned from their mistakes. Japanese engineering may not always be consistent if the Fusō sisters' chronic 'teething troubles' were any indication, but it was undoubtedly among the most spirited and resourceful of endeavors. Even in smaller projects such as Tenryū and her sister Tatsuta, the spirit of 'Western ideals with Japanese characteristics' shone through. Although their designs may have been derived from British plans, they were of their own mind: no English, destroyer-like light cruiser would dare chide her "children" while playfully wagging a katana, or try and perform sword tricks when a destroyer breaks down about there being no flag in her hamburger, or wear a crest-like insignia over their heads as if it was a set of earmuffs, or always look eager and ready to jog at 33 knots in spite of being nearly a hundred years old, or tightly button up her cardigan as if she was a debutante at a Regency-era ball that accentuated her sharp profile-

 _Wait. What._

Mikasa squinched up her eyes in confusion. Sharp profile? That can't be right. The bridge was the head, was it not? That would mean that her chest was her bow and rear her stern, but there was no possible way that a bow could be _that_ sharp. Unless Tenryū had her original bow shorn off in a collision and had a new one fitted onto her, what on earth was the Ministry of the Navy thinking giving her a razor of a bow? That cruiser could lop off heads with those things!

"Ah, Mikasa, ya may be a granny but don' get all googly-eyed at other peoples' chests. It ain't polite to stare, y'know! Be happy with your own silhouette!" The light carrier patted her own body proudly. "I once saved the entire fleet with this body o'mine. The Kidō Butai had their runways all messed up and elevators jammed, so they had to launch their planes off o'me! If I had a chest like Mount Fuji, we would'a never gotten out of that pinch alive!"

"I'm more confused than envious really," the pre-dreadnought stated bluntly. "I'm asking the question of _how_ rather than _why._ It's our bow region of our hulls, is it not? Then why does Tenryū look so unintentionally promiscuous and you like er, a sheet of paper?"

"I dunno," Ryūjo stroked her chin thoughtfully. "My crew always told me tha' it was cos' I have no island on deck. On most ships the island is th' tallest point of the ship for flight control, but mine's ov'r my heart. Pretty poetic ain't it?"

"You two talking about the topic-that-must-not-be-named?" Katsuragi called out as she sat herself down beside them, lunch tray in hand. "Ah, I see you're also part of the club Mikasa, so high five!"

"My question was purely scientific in nature, nothing prospective," the pre-dreadnought groaned as she realized why the aircraft carrier was so excited. "I just simply wanted to know why some kanmusu look prim and proper, and others look like their busts are about to declare independence and secede from the rest of their hulls."

"Oh. In that case," she remarked between scoffs of her food, "it has to do with horsepower, or at least it should. Japan was struggling to hobble together machinery when they were completing me, so I'm actually powered by a destroyer's engines rather than a more suitable plant. The result? I look like this," pointing at her level muneate, "while my sisters, well…not that I'm complaining, really, Zuikaku also has an erm…what did you call it just now…oh that's right! A proper deck! No offense, Kirishima," Katsuragi added quickly.

"None taken," the spectacled battleship returned, her focus invested on the cellphone before her as she rhythmically tapped up a response. Mikasa peered over her shoulder curiously.

* * *

 **North Carolina (BB-55)**

 _-December 19, 2016-_

The Atlantic Ocean is sooo boring right now…

Isn't that a good thing?

Yeah, but I kinda miss the thrill of shooting  
down airplanes and being shot at. Wasp  
thinks I'm turning into an adrenaline junkie…

Maybe she's right.

Ugh, I don't want to have to sail to the North Sea  
For an adventure…

 _-January 2017-_

Hey, this isn't North Carolina. I lost my phone again  
and I don't know where I put it so sister's letting me  
use her phone to page mine.

Did you try calling it?

I think I put it on silent…

 _…Why?_

I forgot.

Didn't the USN implement some sort  
of app for this sort of thing?

They did…and I forgot…

…How are you always forgetting these things?

I know it's somewhere within 210  
paces of me…

Or knowing that?

…I just found it…I was dragging it  
everywhere behind me by the lobes  
of my earbuds…

Now I'm bored…

This seems to be a chronic problem for you two…

Well, normally I'd be conducting  
patrols from Puget Sound to the  
Gulf of Alaska, but it's the Canadians'  
turn to watch over Anchorage  
and Taffy 3's passing by so  
everyone's out watching Gambier Bay's  
and White Plains's little air show.

So what are you up to?

Eating lunch.

I figured. Hot chocolate with yellowfin  
tuna sushi and mochi?

…I'm not even going to ask.

So what are you doing? Besides  
being bored that is?

Trying to figure out how to wrap up  
this chapter.

Chapter?

Yeah. I'm working with Arizona,  
New Jersey, Lexington, and Enterprise  
on their writing project.

Want to read it some time?

Unfortunately, my hands are tied right now  
with the Guadalcanal Project. I'm waiting   
on San Francisco and Atlanta for their chapters   
so I can proofread them.

Oh, right. You're going by day, correct?

Let me know if I can write something up  
for November 15.

Certainly!

* * *

 _Guadalcanal…November 15…_ Mikasa wracked her brain for the significance of those two events before her eyes widened in realization.

"You're talking to _Washington_?"

"Ack! Wha-? Oh, Mikasa, I almost didn't see you there. Uh yes, I was." The fast battleship adjusted her glasses in embarrassment. "She kinda sorta outplayed me in a night engagement."

"I know who Washington is, I'm just surprised you're on speaking terms with the warship that killed you."

"We actually exchange tidbits by text message frequently, things like fun facts we run across or new strategies that we find work really well. Washington and I are pretty similar actually."

"You mean she's a bigger klutz than you are?" Mikasa could almost hear her mental image of a precise, immaculate battleship mentor shattering before her ears.

"Well, not exactly. We have the opposite problems. I often get swept up in the moment while Washington always keeps her cool and takes careful note of her surroundings. However, let's just say that's she a little…dreamy, shall we?"

"How dreamy are we talking about?"

"As in her head was so high up in the clouds that she once sortied without her officers."

"Oh my…"

"It's not all that bad of course!" Kirishima hurried in alarm at the pre-dreadnought's disappointed expression. "For instance she wrote an ode to Kongō for her launch anniversary."

"How fascinating. Care to show me?"

"NO!" Katsuragi and Ryūjo shouted in unison.

"Kirishima, don't read it, play it, or even THINK about it. Because once Kongō and Goto heard her rendition of it, they wouldn't stop singing it for weeks!"

"Aw jeez, the memories are all comin' back!" Ryūjo wailed, clamping her ears. "Now I can't stop hearing Kongō singing about bongos!"

"Did someone just ask for the 'Kongō Bongo,' dess?" A familiar voice cooed as its owner impacted with the metal table.

"Oh no…"

"This is NOT happenin'…"

"Mikasa-san, watch my amazing American impression. Everyone, follow me! Ahem."

"Oh Bongo-Bongo-Bongo  
I don't want to leave my Kongō  
Oh no no no no no…."

In that moment, the two carriers cowered in fear, for they were given a grim reminder that they lived in terror of battleships built in Barrows-in-Furnace, who appeared to have no 'off switch' when they encountered something that amused them.

* * *

"Want that sandwich?" Jukeini pointed at a large yet simple cheese, lettuce, and tomato combination, at which the fairies nodded in affirmation.

"What about curry?" Again they nodded in agreement.

"Just warning you, the one you were eyeing was based off of Ashigara's recipe. She likes her cuisine extremely spicy." That warning failed to deter them at all from wanting a generous helping.

"What about sushi or sashimi?"

By happy coincidence she had run into Hiryū en route to the base's mess, and agreed to take the officers back to their flagship. The aircraft carrier was more than eager to comply, for the strenuous exercises had exhausted her fuel reserves, which needed replenishment with all due haste.

Now the lieutenant would get to treat them to a little taste of the future. It wouldn't be significantly different from the past, tastes aside, but the mess did try and offer some other cuisines to accommodate its staff. An example of such a foodstuff included a soggy offering of French fries, clearly intended for the kanmusu who could afford to indulge in such sheer amounts of grease and oil.

"Desu desu desu?" They stared at a golden curl suspiciously, prodding it with their fingers. The aiguiletted officer, Akiyama she believed his name was, shrugged and dragged a single piece onto the tray, which the other two neatly divided into thirds and nibbled on it experimentally. Gensui Tōgō and Akiyama quickly shifted their interest back to the Ashigara-style curry and sandwich, though the third fairy attempted to finish his share before rejoining his fellow officers.

"Good?" she asked them, to which Tōgō the Elder nodded.

So far, the day was off to a good start. Mikasa was out and about, the prospects of the pre-dreadnought proving her mettle in battle soon were high, and the fairies appeared to be accustoming themselves to their dead-but-not-dead state. What could possibly go wrong?

"A bingle bangle baby  
I'm so happy in the navy  
I refuse to go…"

Oh, right, she smacked her face as Kongō danced to a happy beat in the center of the cafeteria.

* * *

 **A/N:** Washington's forgetfulness is a reference to the fact that during her service in the Atlantic an unidentified man was swept overboard, which upon his body was recovered ended up being none other than her Admiral, Wilcox Jr.


	28. Dreams and Nightmares: Shoot!

**A/N:** Fragment 5/6 for the Second Chapter. This is a fairy-heavy imagination of the happenings-on when a kanmusu fires her batteries.

* * *

"So this is the thing that replaced my job, eh?" Katō mused as he inspected a massive device reporting various angles, ranges, and bearings.

"It's a Shagekiban computer," Abo nodded. "Calculates ranges and the recommended firing solutions in one centralized location on the spot. Pretty nifty, isn't it?"

"Indeed," the man grunted. "I bear no grudges against advances in technology. This certainly beats screaming my lungs out to the gunners. I see it was manufactured by Japanese craftsmen too," he added, affectionately massaging the familiar triad logo of Mitsubishi. "And there are no words that can describe how happy I am to see that emblem. The Americans can take away our damn battleships with those 'fair treaties' of theirs, but to hell with them if they try and lay a hand on our industry. Speaking of Western powers and their treaties, you daydreamers never restored the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, did you?" The chief gunnery officer jumped and looked at him startledly.

"Don't pretend that you weren't a supporter of the London Naval Treaty, or that you and I stood on opposite sides when that ugly thing came roaring down our alley." Katō tapped his head. "I can do more than calculate ranges, you know."

"I was surprised you remember that," Abo replied meekly.

"Oh, of course I remember that. I remember the entire damn nine thousand yards. I remember when you lot kept screeching about the Treaty being a 'necessity' and forcing Tōgō and the Emperor to weigh in on the decision. I remember when that led to me getting kicked off the delegation and replaced with someone more 'moderate.' Finally, I also remember me telling the American ambassador, 'screw you,' when he had the gall to invite me to dinner, as if nothing was happening. Of course," he laughed, "it's a bit foolish to think I'd hold that grudge against you for what? Eighty years? All I want to know is, Kiyokazu, how much longer did you live?"

"The last year I remember is 1948."

"That's a good nine more years than me. Long enough for the war against China to end, and certainly long enough for the Western powers to decide whether they liked us or hated us. Tell me Abo, before you died for the first time, did you see a bright future for Japan?"

"It was the dawn of a whole new age for the country."

"A whole new age, you said, and I missed it?! Damn, I'd love to see the rise of _those_ aircraft," pointing above his head where some JSDF fighter jets soared over on routine patrols. "But enough wishing-washing, it's time to remind our boys how to lay down some serious broadsides against Japan's enemies. I'm not about to let all that strategy-building I've worked on since my time on the Asahi go to waste!"

He walked out and gazed down at the crew idling about below deck.

"TO YOUR POSTS!" Katō roared. "BEAT TO QUARTERS!"

* * *

"Burning…love!"

"Turrets one, two, three…mic check…aim at the enemy! FIRE!"

"Haruna…will give all she's got! Commence firing!"

"All guns! Fire! Hiittt ittt!"

"Hit! Hit! Hit! Hit~!" Iku sang as she watched the shells tear into the battleships' gunnery target.

"Again, dess! These guns aren't all for show! Burning…!"

The submarine floated onto her back, relieved that she was indeed merely reporting on the shell's impacts rather than the object of their trajectory. It also allowed her to kick back and enjoy the ensemble of 140mm and 356mm rifles whistling their little tune of the day.

However, she couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was a bit 'off' about the noise…

* * *

"And so the moment we've all been waiting for has come," Goto murmured as he peeked out his office window at the familiar booms of fourteen-inch guns going off in the distance.

"It has," Ōyodo nodded in agreement as she studied the quintet through her binoculars.

"Has Mikasa fired her broadside yet?"

"No," the cruiser frowned as she lowered them, "that's the odd thing. It looks like she's frozen in place."

"What?! Let me see!"

* * *

"Distance to target, fifteen thousand meters!" An officer shouted as he gazed through her rangefinders.

"Distance to target, fifteen thousand meters!"

"All guns, elevate to forty degrees, three-quarters charge!" Katō bellowed up the speaking tubes as he read the computer's recommendation.

"Forty degrees, three-quarters charge, FIRE!" Abo roared.

Much to the entire bridge's surprise, instead of being met with the deep reverberations of four twelve-inch guns going off in unison, they were greeted with the sound of silence.

"What the hell are those men doing in there?"

"Distant to target, fifteen thousand meters!" The rangefinding officer shouted frantically.

"Order plus twenty seconds…plus twenty-two seconds…plus twenty-four seconds…If this was an actual engagement the enemy could have fired off an entire volley!"

"You there! What the hell is wrong with you lot?! Load the guns and fire!"

"Sir, the cannons are loaded and ready," a sailor reported as he appeared from his casemate, "but—"

"But what?" Abo demanded.

"But none of us have ever fired these guns at such distances," he scratched his back nervously, "so none of us can tell if we're actually training them properly. We can barely even see what we're firing at. Sir…how can we aim at something we can't even see?"

"That's what the new electronical systems are for; no need to stick your neck out and spot the enemy to shoot!"

"We know, but the gunnery officers in the casemates and turrets feel uneasy about blindly relying upon machinery for the solutions."

"Nariharu's right," his superior added as he wiped the sweat off his brow, "what happened to Katō Kanji's methodology?"

"This is the progression of the centralized fire control he thought up," Abo pointed at the rangefinder sitting atop Mikasa's foremast high above him.

"So no more range clocks? No more shouting orders until our throats are dry?"

"No," the chief gunnery replied firmly, "trust the computer's operators to have the right calculations."

"Uh, that's the thing, Kiyokazu," Maruyama interjected as he emerged from forward 12" gun turret. "I know that it isn't that revolutionary for you, but the gunners are sweating at wit's end laboring over whether they've got it right or not. Is there no way you could meet them down the middle and –"

"NO! Look around you!" Abo shouted angrily. "Look at the battlecruisers to our left! You see how many rounds they've fired off while we've been wasting time? We don't have time for this! We don't have time to be hand-calculating the ranges when our enemies can do it in a clock tick!"

"Abo…please," a gunnery officer took off his cap and bowed in submission, "just this once, can you give commands while Katō and the other operators formulate the solutions? We'll follow the machine's recommendations; all we need is something familiar to get us in the rhythm of battle."

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Abo's face remained completely expressionless, refusing to give any indication of his inner thoughts. Instead, the fairy paced up and down the bridge, deep in thought, before letting out a sigh in resignation.

"Hurgh….Fine…"

He approached a circular device that had been covered over, pulled the black tarp off, and carefully turned the hands to the "3" position.

"Fifteen o'clock…to the right of that old hag of a mermaid…"

The entire deck burst into cheers. Sailors threw their caps high into the air as if they had just been told that the war was over, gunnery officers burst into giddy bouts of laughter and ran back to their posts to deliver the good news, and Maruyama and the other musicians eagerly scurried about the deck, blackboards with the words "FIRE" strapped to their backs.

"Three o'clock, range: 15,000 meters!"

"Three o'clock, range: 15,000 meters!"

"Three o'clock!"

"Get that battery loaded!"

"Steady now, don't rush the hoist! We don't need a magazine detonation now!"

* * *

Goto wanted to believe that he was dreaming, because what he saw before his very eyes was nearly unthinkable.

Atop each of Mikasa's four twelve-inch guns was a sailor straddling the barrel, stuffing an Arisaka rifle down the muzzle and looking out towards their target fifteen-thousand meters away. Some fairies had lowered a lifeboat with a smaller target roughly the size of one of the crewmembers, and rowed until they were right under the turrets of the battleship's main battery.

"What on _earth_ is she doing?"

* * *

"Kawai, got that peppō?"

"I'm holding it dead center!"

"Good, pull the trigger!"

 _Puff._

"Forty degrees!" A sailor aboard the lifeboat shouted.

"The computer's right," a gunner raised a thumbs-up in confirmation.

"Told you!" Abo hollered. "Now stop kissing that barrel, Kawai, so that I can give the order."

"I'm off now, sir!"

"Forward battery, test fire, 0 knots, right gunnery. The distance is 15,000 meters. Prepare to fire!"

"The forward twelve-inch battery test fire. Right gunnery. 15,000 meters!" A gunnery officer shouted through a megaphone.

"The distance is 15,000. Prepare to fire," a musician yelled into forward turret.

"The distance is 15,000. Prepare to fire!"

"Ready to fire!"

"Mikasa!" The chief gunnery officer cupped his hands and shouted into the bridge's speaking tubes, "do your thing!"

In gentle, fluid motion the barrels of the forward turret dipped down, then nudged gently to the right.

"I'm ready when you are, Abo! Should gut the target midships!"

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

"FIRE!" Kawai frantically raised his blackboard before the gunnery crew.

"Getttttt readddyy…."

"FIREE!"

 _Boom. Boom._ Two twelve-inch shells whistled out of the rifling and began their noisy journey towards their unfortunate victim. Seconds later three six-inch projectiles joined them, giving a shrill cry as they spun about like angels of death.

Any moment now, they would make landfall.

"Get ready…" an officer counted down as the stopwatch's hand shifted to the right. "Impact!"

There was a distant muffled sound of the gunnery target disintegrating into molten shrapnel as it erupted into a massive geyser of sea foam and steam.

"Direct hit!"

"Direct hit!" came the excited chatter from the radio room. "Confirmed penetration: 267 mm!"

* * *

"Admiral, transmission from Iku: 'Direct hit! Penetration: 267 mm!'"

"267 mm? That's the amount I'd expect from a fourteen-inch shell, not Mikasa's twelve-inch ones!"

"It's because of the 12"/50's super-heavy AP shells; the extra weight gives the penetration value of the USN's pre-treaty guns. Alaska tried explaining it to me once, and for some reason it stuck. What surprises me, however, is that she got the bearings in the _opening salvo_."

"That's because she did a test shot. In battle, Mikasa won't have time to waste like that. Order Iku to push the remnants of that metal container along; let's see how she does when she rolls."

* * *

"Reload the guns, hurry!"

"Close the magazine doors!"

"Loading up the powder in two go's!"

"One twelve-inch shell, coming right up!"

"Abo," Akiyama shouted, "they're moving the target!"

"The submarine's pushing it along at 4 knots! Computer indicates that it's closing the distance, currently 14, 950 and closing!"

"Doesn't matter Katō, we'll get it all the same. Target moving at 4 knots. Order all batteries to fire, right gunnery. The range is 14, 900 meters. Give extra lead to the right."

"All batteries, right gunnery. 14,900 meters. Extra lead to the right!" A sailor shouted, snapping his telescope shut.

"14,900 meters, all batteries, extra lead to the right!"

"All batteries, extra lead to the right. The distance is 14,900 meters."

"Ready…!"

* * *

"Uh, Mikasa, is that all?"

"Mikasa," Kirishima stared at the serene battleship confusedly, "why did you only fire off five rounds?"

"Mikasa-san, don't worry, dess! Give all of your BURNING LOVE at once!"

"Mikasa is okay, right?"

"Right?"

The pre-dreadnought ignored them, instead intently watching the purplish-blue shades of Iku's hair float in the water as the submarine pushed the target along. She wasn't quite sure _what_ I-19 was doing, nor exactly _why_ she was intentionally running into the battleship's line of fire, but like hell would she let that deter her from firing.

Now that her crew had overcome their initial "new technology" jitters, there was only one thing left to do.

 _She had been hit near the funnels. She had been hit in the casemates. She had been hit dangerously close to a barbette, but the Russians thankfully were lacking in the gunnery department to effectively penetrate it._

 _The distance was 4,800 yards and closing, but none of the officers seemed to mind even as a close call coated them with splinters and dust._

 _Because they were not just any men, but Meiji men, who kept their heads held high and always looked forward._

 _In fact, what was it that Akiyama had said as they left Chinhae Bay?_

 _That's right…_

"Weather is fine with large swells…all guns, FIRE!"

"Impact…now!" Kongō's chief gunnery officer shouted, stopping his watch. Everyone looked on in awe as the guns quickly found their bearings, correcting their aim slowly but surely as the shells first fell close, then straddled the target, then at last…

 _Boom._

The target exploded spectacularly, sending a spray of water high into air that completely obscured it from view.

In that moment, the fast battleship felt an indescribable thrill run through her as she watched Mikasa's entire rigging disappear into a massive cloud of smoke, her six-inch and twelve-pound artillery singing a wonderful song of continuous yellow rain. She had always wondered what her old friend had been like in the prime of her life, and while the current drill was no Baltic Fleet, it gave her a clear indication of what Mikasa had once been. Never once did the pre-dreadnought hesitate as she deftly maneuvered, skillfully skating about the onlookers in pursuit of Iku and her charge. If anything, Mikasa was constantly looking ahead in high spirits, ignoring the slightly unsteady pitch of her hull as she rolled back and forth on the high waves.

* * *

 _SPLOSH._

"Guh, shit!" something gurgled into the radio.

"Iku, are you all right?!"

"I'm okay," the submarine cackled feebly into the radio, still frantically hyperventilating, "I was getting Radford vibes from that though…Surprisingly, Mikasa's gunners have good aim, or they were being extremely careful not to hit me. All projectiles either fell too short or a little ahead of me."

"How many of her shells actually hit the target?"

"A surprisingly high amount, I'd say. I uh, didn't get an exact count since I kept getting jump scares by incoming twelve-inch shells, but if she discharged like fifty or sixty shots I'd say at least thirty or forty landed on it before capsizing."

"Incredible," Goto murmured. "When I read Shiba Ryōtarō's serialization growing up I always imagined that he embellished his descriptions of the havoc wreaked during Tsushima. Seeing it with my own eyes, on the other hand…now that's something else. Ōyodo, inform Mikasa to cease shelling. She and her crew have proved themselves enough today. We'll see to correcting her initial hiccup tomorrow."

* * *

"Orders from command ship Ōyodo: Cease fire!"

"Lower the ensign!" Akiyama shouted.

"Cease fire! All batteries cease shelling!" Abo bellowed.

"Stop firing!"

"Stop! Firing!"

"STOP!"

"STOP!" Kawai frantically waved.

"Stop…firing!"

"Understood! Expending any remaining ammunition!"

"I say," Abo coughed as the smoke clouds receded, "it may not be Shimose powder, but these new shells and propellants are something."

"The rate of fire on those guns is incredible too!" Hikojirō added. "Two rounds a minute on those twelve-inch guns was something we could only dream about with 12"/40's."

"Supposedly they can fire even faster," Akiyama looked up from his after-action report, "because they have something the Americans call a 'two stage powder hoist,' but I think the men failed to take full advantage of it."

"That wouldn't surprise me," the officer's face soured slightly, "from what it sounded like the men assumed that it was like her old hoist and kept trying to load the shell _and_ the charge at the same time. Combine that with bags of nitrocellulose that are who-knows-how-old and a tendency to leave the magazine doors open, we have a problem. A colossal problem."

"We do?"

"Akiyama," Abo rested his arms on the bridge's railing, "you and I both know that the Royal Navy is one of the most formidable forces ever to put to sea, but even they make mistakes. Many years after you passed away, the United Kingdom went to war once more with Germany. In one of their engagements a group of battleships squared off against a German one, which was only being accompanied by a single cruiser. Despite this, the Germans succeeded in annihilating one of the British battleships, detonating its magazine very much like we had done to Borodino at Tsushima. There were only a handful of survivors. I don't think the British admiralty ever agreed upon the exact cause of its loss, but," he faced the strategist, "I certainly don't think the shortcuts they took helped."

"But perhaps—"

"They did the same thing too to Mikasa, when they were running test trials on her. When they were test firing her batteries, the focus was on how many rounds per minute she could lob out, not how precise they were. I remember reading the telegrams bragging about her potential-'a broadside nearly every 40 seconds,' they crowed. Now, it's true that Kato and I worked hard on instilling the need for precision in the men, but it's a vulnerability that I wouldn't easily rule out."

"Got some work on weaning the crew off old habits to do, don't you Abo?" Mikasa gently scolded her chief gunnery officer.

Her fairies were about to reply when suddenly…

"Miiiiiiiikkkkkkkaaaaaassssssaaaaaa~!" A familiar-sounding voice rumbled.

 _Oh dear._

"Yes, Kongō-?" The pre-dreadnought stopped dead in her tracks. Coming straight at her on a collision course was Kongō, a big smile plastered on her face as she somersaulted over.

Except, it _wasn't_ Kongō. At least, not back-from-the-dead, destroyer-eating and nightmare-bringing Kongō-bongo, unless she somehow traveled back to 1911 and decided that spiky buns and long locks were fashionable again.

"This…is…awesome!"

"I say, AWESOME!"

"AWESOME!"

"Uh, Kongō, this isn't the first time we've met…" Mikasa mumbled, trying to untangle herself from the girl's torso. She quickly discovered that there was no need to; not-Kongō had already danced a safe distance away, giving Mikasa a half-embarrassed salute.

"Oh, right, it ain't proper to show so much affection without introducing yourself first, innit?" The woman took off her white cap and gave the pre-dreadnought the peace sign, "first ship in class, Kongō, at your service!" She eagerly clenched her fists and made a gesture as if she was about to hop right back at Mikasa like a sugar-high rabbit. "It's so cool meeting the Heroine of Tsushima!"

"Admiral, we didn't happen to bloody time travel back one hundred years, did we?" The battleship asked her officers, who were still reeling from the incredibly-close encounter.

"If we did," Akiyama began, massaging the comically-massive lump on his head, "it wouldn't explain why we're still here, or why she's gallivanting about in summer dress whites in the middle of winter…"

"Or the red cotton undershirt she's so clearly wearing under that poorly buttoned-up jacket, if you can even call it that," Tōgō added, giving a nod at not-Kongō's artistic preference to wear her white uniform like a hussar's pelisse.

"I'm not hallucinating right now, am I?"

"Nah," she replied crisply in odd English, _the wrong English_. "I'm right here."

"Did you just say nah? Don't you usually say _nope~_?"

"Neigh."

"So you're a horse now? And what's with American accent?"

"Oh," she scratched her head sheepishly, "Blue Ridge taught me English, so…"

 _Wait. What_.

"You're from Barrows-in-Furness like me, what are you talking abou—"

 _Clomp._

"Hey~, if you keep being so hyper like that, you'll cause an earthquake on-deck, dess!" The familiar, miko-wearing Kongō scolded her counterpart. Much to Mikasa's surprise the fast battleship gave no reaction to the revelation that she had a doppleganger, let alone the fact that Not-Kongō lacked the Barrovian touch.

"Heh, I got sorta carried away, but when I heard the Shimose powder I couldn't take it anymore!"

"But don't run away from your crew like that just to take a closer look~! You're still a metal ship with duties, y'know!"

"I've been cooped up here for almost two weeks now; of course I'm going to be a little antsy for action!"

"There's two of you," Mikasa said feebly, interrupting the duo's conversation.

"Yep~!"

"Indeed, there are two of us."

"But who _are you_?"

"I'm Kongō," Not-Kongō curtsied, "didn't I just tell you that?"

"She's the guided missile destroyer, Kongō-dess!" the fast battleship cooed, "and more than willing to give the next generation of BURNING LOVE!"

"I see Kongō your tea-loving compatriot as my role model," JS Kongō explained, "so even though I usually hang out at Sasebo, I try and come up here to Yokosuka to try and pay her and Commodore a visit often."

"Do the crew approve of your little escapades, though?" Mikasa furrowed a brow in disapproval. "I don't know too much about the situation, but from what I've read it's not like the voyage is a cakewalk for the navy."

"Actually, they don't," the giant destroyer huddled awkwardly, "so it's more like whenever there's official business to do over here in the east."

"Not that it matters," Kongō shrugged, "Admiral and I both spoil her often whenever she is at Yokosuka. She's adorable, no?"

"I don't know if adorable is necessary the right word…" the pre-dreadnought retorted, sizing up the "adorable" destroyer who was in fact, taller than her despite the work done on her hull. "Although, this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Is she as dotty as you are, Kongō?"

"No…" Not-Kongō shook her spiked buns furiously. "Commodore is Commodore, even if the admiralty makes him an acting full Admiral. I dunno what you did to Kongō to make her so love-crazy about that man, though…"

"I could ask you that same question," Mikasa tilted her head. "She's been like that ever since Vickers delivered her…"

"Aw man, so you mean that the two of you wouldn't want to enter a threesome with Goto?" Iku purred disappointedly as she resurfaced beside them. "That would have the perfect-GUH!"

"Uh, hi, Mikasa…" the submarine laughed nervously as the pre-dreadnought loomed over her, her ram threatening to make contact mid-ships and split her in two.

"Don't talk to me, or my daughter, or my daughter's daughter like that ever again, you hear?"

* * *

 **A/N:** In case you're scratching your head at Mikasa's fairies antics, it's based off what a surviving crewman, Kawai Tarō (a cornet player in the ship's band), stated was their method of practicing gunnery: supposedly, they would insert a rifle (Satsuma slang 'peppō' for 'teppō') into the main battery and fire a test shot, and, if the angle was right, then proceed to fire the guns.

Shimose Powder was apparently a formidable propellant introduced during the Sino-Japanese War that was used by the IJN until pre-WWI. According to some historians, the unique recipe gave it an edge over its rivals in the RN and MN.

"Weather is Fine with Large Swells": The legendary telegram message that the Combined Fleet sent to the government on the morning of Tsushima. If Mikasa ever makes it into Kancolle, this better be her attack line, or _something_ about the weather.

The penetration of her new 12"/50's: Based upon penetration values courtesy of NavWeaps.

According to James Schneer, Mikasa was originally equipped with a powder hoist that brought up both the **charge and the shell together at the same time** (an apparently 'powerful' modification to the two-stage hoist on the original Formidable class pre-dreadnoughts) that supposedly increased her rate of fire; initial trials conducted by Vickers indicated that she could reach 30s if the crew hurried, though somewhere between 40-48s was ideal based upon the turret angling.

And finally, introducing the last of Mikasa's famous crew-members-turned-fairy that I will be including in the story as of now: Katō Kanji. _Saka no Ue no Kumo_ proclaims that he was possibly the first man to have developed concentrated fire from a centralized position (which Pakenham, as an observer on the Asahi at the same time Kanji was an officer aboard her, might have introduced to the RN, though the book acknowledges that this claim might be suspect), and became instrumental in the IJN's effectiveness at Tsushima. Afterwards, Katō ascended the ranks until he became **Minister of the Navy** in the 1930's, a position he used to vocally oppose the London Naval Treaty. What happened exactly afterwards is unclear (some suggest that Hirohito himself was agitated with his position and had him removed forcibly, others claim that even Tōgō got irritated with how viciously he was opposing the Treaty despite his own misgivings that he 'recommended' to Hirohito a more moderate replacement), but Katō was ultimately unseated from that position. Naturally such a fall from grace might irritate a man, and Katō definitely wasn't below being petty: when the American Ambassador invited him to dinner, he flat out rejected it in protest of the London Naval Treaty.


	29. Dreams and Nightmares: Evening

**A/N:** Not going to lie, I got distracted by a rapping Daoist monk in addition to not being too satisfied with the characterizations. Anyway, the batch posted today are the last of the 4 base/fluff chapters I started posting 2 weeks ago; the next batch (hopefully released next week) resolves the whole-someone's-getting-promoted drama and introduces the premise for the remainder of the arc (as well as providing some context as to how abyssals appeared in this universe). **Fragment 6/6.**

* * *

 _Tap. Tap._

"We're here," she smiled encouragingly as the train pulled to a stop.

"It looks better than I feared," he sighed in relief as he peeked out the windows. "The way the newspapers in Kyūshū made it sound, I'd thought there'd only be burning ruins left."

"You said the same thing about Tokyo. Honestly, I think you worry too much."

"Of course I have a right to be worried. Goto's hearing is in a few days, The Man's been out 'sick' for three months now, and then there's the whole present mess that is Sasebo Naval Base. Oh, and this summons and Goto's invitation."

"Don't worry," she grinned again, this time bearing her wolf-like teeth, "everything will be just fine. Shall I make some curry for the two of us later tonight?"

"If there's time…thanks, Ashigara. Ah, have you seen my hat? Thanks."

"Now, let's get this over with shall we?"

A sailor was waiting for them expectantly near the entrance.

"Ah, we've expecting you all day! Where have you been?"

"Derailment near Hikone blocked the main line for a few hours. Does Goto still have time to chat?" He gazed anxiously at the rapidly-darkening skies.

"Always does for you, Captain. You and Goto go way back, don't you?"

"I served under him for a time and was there when the Toshima Incident occurred. Why? He's not dying or anything, is he?"

At this the sailor began laughing hysterically.

"You're a funny one, Captain. You really are. Anyway," the sailor showed him the entrance to the admiral's office, "I won't keep you two waiting."

 _Knock. Knock._

"Enter." The door gave way to reveal a middle-aged man hard at work, with a certain bunned battleship fast asleep in his lap. The man's eyes widened in realization at who his guest was.

"Hasui."

"Arima."

"It's been a long time, Admiral Goto."

"So it has, Captain Yonehara."

* * *

"Did you know that you look like a peddler with all the stuff you're carrying about on your back?" Mikasa offered, raising an amused eyebrow at the hunched-form of her admiral's great-great-grandniece.

"Do I now?" The hunchback returned, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders.

"You do. Here, let me help you. You're not a beast of burden; you shouldn't put too much pressure on your arms and legs."

"Fine…at least let me keep the hand-bags though."

"So you kept the mysterious presents those Yamato sisters sent you," Mikasa glanced at the familiar packaging surrounding the object of Kongō's hysteria more than a week before.

"I did," Lieutenant Tōgō returned, carefully snapping the gift bag shut. "It's a good thing that I rescued them from Akashi's clutches in time, too. Yūbari was going mad just having to be around them."

"So what exactly is in that bag?"

"You'll see shortly; let's take all of this stuff to my quarters first," pointing at a dormitory building. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Didn't need to. I still have enough coal sitting around to steam for a while. At least I should," she frowned as a casual search of her dress pockets ended fruitlessly.

"That's fine. Sorry about ditching you for the most of the day today; I had some orders from Goto and the others to attend to first. Whenever you finally find your appetite I'll take you out somewhere if there's a restaurant to your fancy. My treat."

"As much as I would love to, with how much we spirits eat and all…are you sure?"

"I've paid for people with big appetites before, no worries."

"Yo, Mikasa!"

The two women turned their heads as Tenryū approached them, brandishing a katana menacingly high above her head.

"I was trying to practice some new moves, and that got me wondering," she puckered her lips as her headset's ears drooped, "would you mind teaching me sword fighting sometime?"

"I'm not that well versed in kenjutsu, and gekiken reminds me of fencing. Do you even know how to hold a sword?"

"Y-y-yes," Tenryū struck a slightly less-awkward pose, "See? I just need someone to spar with. Kiso isn't here, and everyone I've challenged declined, so…"

 **Whoom.**

"Gya!"

"I'll challenge you Tenryū!" Someone shouted as she leapt out from behind some conveniently-located bushes.

"You mind if we stay a few moments to watch this?" Mikasa murmured to Jukeini as the newcomer dusted off her miko outfit.

"Sorry I'm late," Ise cleared her throat. "Mind if showcase my studies in Niten Ichi-ryū?"

"Uh, actually," the light cruiser began frantically retreating, her sword trembling like a leaf. "I think it's getting late…I'm off to bed now."

"Oh, come on!" Ise unsheathed her two bokken, "I'm just using wooden swords!"

"Do you hear that sound?" Tenryū broke into a near sprint. "It's Akatsuki wailing for mama!"

"Get back here you destroyer leader! I haven't even gotten started yet!"

"She sounds really sick! Gotta go take care of her!"

"If you're fleeing from me, then it's time for me to make A DYNAMIC ENTRY! "

 **WHUMP.**

"Eek!"

"It is truly the age of the aviation battleship," Ise cheered as she masterfully somersaulted over the bench the light cruiser had repositioned in a futile attempt to delay her pursuer. "Now face me in the open! It will be glorious!"

"Back! Back I say!" Tenryū noodled her sword frantically. "Get back! Away with you!"

"That's no way how to treat a warrior! Let me show you how to truly fight!"

 _Dok._

"Ow!"

 _Dok._

"Oof!"

 _Dok._

"Ack!"

"Usually I'm more of a polearms person," Mikasa explained, "but if it's Ise or Hyūga going through the motions…it's quite something else…"

"Indeed…" Jukeini replied weakly as Ise artfully scored tap after tap on the hapless Tenryū.

* * *

"It gets cold rather quickly nowadays, doesn't it?"

"There was a campaign a couple of years back to conserve electricity, and even though the government lifted the energy restrictions a few months after placing them a lot of people just got used it. A lot of us certainly did, since it gave us an opportunity to be a bit more casual. Of course, we still have kotatsus and heaters if we want to make things toasty," Tōgō added as she fumbled about her jacket for her key before giving a jolt and barricading the door.

"Uh, Mikasa, regardless of what Kongō said, you don't think I'm a pervert or anything, right?"

"No, of course not," she scrunched her brows in confusion. "Why?"

"Well I uh, er, well, these are my private quarters so that means I, um, have all sorts of stuff laying about that I'd usually stash away if I knew I was having guests. Considering the fact that I didn't expect to be out of it for two weeks or the possibility that you might just decide 'hey, I'll come back, why not,' one day, my room is, ah, a mess right now."

"I am a battleship who carried more than 800 men inside of me during wartime, Lieutenant. Trust me, I know what a mess looks like when I see one. I won't judge you for what colors your undergarments are; I've seen far more of those then I could possibly care about in my lifetime."

"If only it were something so silly…you promise you won't judge me, right?"

"As I said before, Jukeini: I won't."

"If you say so…" she murmured, and slowly unlocked the door. A strong gust of cold air surged past them as Tōgō flicked on the lights and illuminated the poorly-heated room.

Mikasa walked in behind her, and immediately appreciated the lieutenant's sense of ergonomics in furbishing the dormitory. It was larger than her own captain's quarters, that much was for certain, but it was still tiny nonetheless. There was a small desk littered with sketches, yellowed newspapers, and dried-up pens with a banker's lamp forming a clearing in the top right corner. Beside the table sat a dresser and a pair of filing cabinets, all three of which were surprisingly well-kept. Finally, at the opposite end of the room rested a small, tidied bed, which was made clean enough to the point the battleship initially thought the room was no longer occupied.

The state of the lieutenant's room confused her. Clearly, Jukeini cleaned after herself, and there was nothing truly compromising to be found, her desk aside. If Goto or Kongō walked in, they would find few disciplinary violations to pick at.

That's when Mikasa looked to her left.

"Oh my."

 _Somehow_ , despite the confines of her living quarters, Lieutenant Tōgō had made room to install four sets of shelves, spanning from the doorway all the way to her bed. And on these four sets of shelves were dozens, no, _hundreds_ , of model ships neatly lining the wooden panels from end to end. There were all sorts of warships on display for the visitor to admire, from tiny tugboats to towering steel juggernauts.

Mikasa smiled as a familiar black-and-white miniature caught her attention.

"You have one of me," she stated amusedly as the battleship cradled the model with both arms.

"Y-y-y-yeah." Jukeini stammered, sweating furiously.

"You know," Mikasa continued nonchalantly, rolling herself over onto her red underside, "I never realized that I looked this fat from below. Am I still this portly?"

"You shouldn't…you're a bit…longer now, with the refit."

"Oh look, there's more of me," the battleship carefully returned the giant example of herself and pulled out five smaller ones.

"Hey Tōgō, Akiyama, take a look at this." At their mention the two officers walked out onto the bridge, gazing curiously at two plastic figurines that accompanied the model battleship.

"Either your great-great grandniece or the company who designed this kit decided to have the courtesy to give an honorable mention. You two look very dapper, don't you?" They gave "desu" in agreement, while another officer came out and whispered his own opinion to them.

"You think Akiyama's mustache is too long, hm? Sorry Captain, but I'm afraid that there are no likenesses of you here. But perhaps you are mentioned in another representation. Jukeini, how many of these do you have?" Mikasa turned to give her an amused eyebrow.

Tōgō turned beet-red and began mumbling something.

"S-s-six," she said in a small voice.

"How many?"

"Six!"

"Ah, well that's all for me then. Got any of the-oh never mind, found them!" Mikasa answered her own question as she quickly caught sight of the other eleven of Japan's initial six-six program. From the venerable Fuji to battleship-like Tokiwa, each one of them was modeled in excruciating detail.

"It's amazing how they detail the shafts and railings, isn't it, Jukeini?" For some reason the officer merely wheezed in reply, looking ready to drop dead from shame. Perhaps she was melting from all the praise, so the battleship decided to return to her search before all that was left of Tōgō the Younger was a gooey puddle on the ground.

Her collection was very numerous, if not extensive. Jukeini appeared to have made some attempt at organizing all her models: her battleships all huddled together on an oak board with some larger class (aircraft carriers?) resting at their moorings above them, while there appeared to a little wharf for all the destroyers and torpedo boats to dock at. In fact, there were so many destroyers on their dedicated shelf that for a moment Mikasa thought that she was looking at a school of mackerel, not an armada of tin-can vessels.

"That's a lot of destroyers."

"I have eighty-six of them. Some company actually did the Ikazuchi sisters you're familiar with," pointing a small torpedo-boat destroyer, "though most of these are IJN destroyers from World War I and II era. That's one of the few American ones I have in your hand right now," she offered as Mikasa studied a long, two-funneled vessel curiously, "lead-ship Gleaves of the _Gleaves-_ class destroyers. One of her sisters happened upon it when they were visiting Sasebo and…uh, gifted it to me."

"You wavered slightly when you said the word 'gifted,'" Mikasa noted, continuing down the line.

"You don't find it strange at all that I keep a collection of you all in all your glory right by my bed?"

"Well," she tapped her chin thoughtfully, "when you put it like that, **_slightly_** , but honestly it's nothing to be appalled at. Maybe it went out of favor, but I could have sworn that Akiyama used to push around little models of us when he was crafting his strategies. Sometimes even Admiral would join in when he felt that his strategist was a being a bit too optimistic. So long as you keep us painted," Mikasa reddened slightly and looked away, "It's fine with me."

"Oh. I can explain!" Jukeini said quickly, catching sight of what she had been looking at. "One of the American ship girls commissioned me to build a model of one her Dutch colleagues from back when they were serving off Indonesia. The problem was that her Dutch counterpart discovered this, and well, it became an I-don't-want-one-until-you-get-one sort of deal, so it's been sitting there looking pretty until they get it all sorted out. Eventually, it'll be completed…eventually. So just to clarify, you don't mind my model ships?"

"As much as humans mind dolls. Why do I am having the feeling though, that I am in the minority?"

"Let's just say that act of a human gifting a kanmusu a model of herself became known as a one-way ticket to the Military Police…or the bedroom. There are some old-timers like you who don't seem to mind. Kaga is extremely proud of the fact that she's on display in the main hall, but as for Salem…I think the giver is scarred for life."

"In that case, I assume that…whatever, this 'gift' the Yamato sisters sent you was a likeness of themselves, and Kongō misinterpreted it as a romantic advance on you?"

"Probably, but such was not the case. I actually already have examples of all three of them if you want to take a look on the top right; just a warning they're monstrously gigantic, though what they gave me makes them look tiny in comparison." She took off the wrapping to reveal two sets of plastic model kits representing battleships resembling the aftermath of letting Pablo Picasso design one. "They were never laid down so of course this is merely wild speculation, but they are interesting ideas nonetheless. Mikasa, I present to you the results of a battleship race gone haywire: the design studies of Benjamin Tillman and Japan's 'Super Yamato' class."

At that statement Mikasa's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean…the United States and Japan…they…no, we, were planning to build these ships?"

"The Tillman designs? For the most part, no. I'm not too familiar with them, but from what Utah's told me they were mostly intended to appease a senator rather than actually be candidates for construction. Japan's A-150 or 'Super Yamatos', on the other hand? Supposedly they were in development right until the battle of Midway, when the Navy lost Kaga and her fleetmates, after which the concept was left on the drawing board. No one knows the exact specifications the A-150's would entail; when defeat was inevitable, the documents were burned. However, there are suggestions that it would involve twenty-inch guns and belt armor nearly as thick."

"What about the Yamato sisters?"

"The Yamato sisters? The Navy went all-out with them, hoping that each of them would be able to stand toe-to-toe with other battleships even when outnumbered. Therefore, they outfitted with dozens of 5 to 6 inch guns, complete with a main battery of 460mm cannons."

"But…the displacement," the pre-dreadnought studied herself in disbelief, "I mean I have plenty of medium-caliber guns to boast of, but 460mm cannons? Their caliber is more than fifty-percent larger than mine!"

"They're more than four-times your weight and twice your length to compensate. As I said before, the Navy went all-in with their designs."

"But the costs—ah, I understand now. Japan must have become a prosperous nation to afford to build that many."

"We couldn't."

"…couldn't?"

"I'm sure you're aware Mikasa, but at the time Japan was investing heavily in its military. That meant that other programs were left on the wayside. More than half of the annual budget was allocated to the army and navy."

"58 million yen."

"Huh?"

"That is how much it cost Japan to build the six of us. I remember that number very well; Akiyama and Admiral kept repeating it whenever the others worried over their health. 'This was not money made from selling silk or fish, but from the Manchu indemnity paid ten years ago.' It was equivalent to almost half of Japan's gold reserves at the time. When I first heard that number, I was proud of it. Japan clearly wanted the best in protecting its people, and I vowed to do my best. Then came the blood bath at Port Arthur." At this Mikasa grew dead quiet. "Both of us-the Navy and Army-threw thousands of men just to take it. When I heard the death toll, and recalled how much the country had invested leading up that indecisive conflict, I made a promise: whatever happened, I would ensure that no matter the cost, I would never ever hear that number again. In that aspect, I appeared to have failed. How much did the Navy spend on the Yamato sisters?"

"251 million yen."

"251 million yen," Jukeini repeated herself quietly, "to build two battleships and one aircraft carrier."

"And despite all of that, we still lost…" Mikasa mused.

"Lieutenant Tōgō…may say that I am glad that that chapter, that nightmare, is finally over?" The battleship offered with a sad smile. "The day of military coups has past; just as it did in 1868. I don't know if and how the people overcame the end of the Pacific War, but the present," she absentmindedly patted her cold neck, "is wonderful."

 _Scritch. Scratch. Scritch._

"Like look at this," she strolled over to where a bushy tail was waving frantically about as its owner buried itself deep inside an aircraft carrier, "I don't think that I've ever seen a creature like this before."

"It's a chinchilla, and he's definitely not supposed to be there. Oi, Scrambles!" Tōgō dug out the frantic and screeching rodent from his hiding place, "what I have I told you about hiding inside my model ships? One of these days you're going to get stuck with no one to rescue you," she scruffed his head scoldingly. "He keeps thinking that Langley's open hangar is a place for him to make his den."

"What exactly are you doing keeping such an animal as a pet?"

"Technically, he's not my pet, and if anyone asks, you absolutely didn't see a giant chinchilla making its nest among my ships. Nagato used to keep a Djungarian Hamster as her unofficial pet, and when it passed away Yūbari, Akashi, and I adopted this massive fellow intending to present him on her launch anniversary. Unfortunately, none of us expected Mutsu to beat us to the punch: apparently Nagato fell in love with a chipmunk she encountered during her posting at Truk, and her sister was wise (or cruel) enough to take it with her when the two were assigned elsewhere. So, the three of us decided to keep him in the workshop."

"The thing is," she opened a drawer in search of some food for the likely starving rodent, "he caused a ruckus there, knocking over some guns and disturbing some plans we've all been laboring over, so we nicknamed him 'Scrambles' and I was left in charge of him. Huh, the chinchilla meal bag's been opened, and this place is a mess. Did ya gorge yourself silly while I was possibly about to die, ya big glutton?"

"Desu!" A goggled fairy shouted in reply, emerging from a little hidey-hole in the wall.

"Oh, Nyan, glad to see that you made it from that little scrap alive. So you've been finding our furry friend while I've been away?"

She bobbed her head in reply.

"Remind me to pick up some pop tarts for you the next I go out…it looks like we're out. Thanks for the help by the way, though I do wish you hadn't made such a mess…Mikasa, do you mind? I'll start putting away all the goodies we've been carrying about while you do that."

"Gladly," the pre-dreadnought paused as her bare neck bothered her again. "By the way, do you mind if I borrow some of your clothes? This frigid breeze around my superstructure is really starting to bother me."

"Go ahead," Jukeini mumbled tiredly as she fought her own losing battle against a stubborn box. "Though I'm not sure if anything will fit you."

Nyan stumbled over and gave an inquisitive "Desu?" as Mikasa methodically emptied the drawers of any half-eaten sunflower seeds (courtesy of Scrambles) and searched for something in particular.

"Surely they haven't gone out of style?" she murmured as the elegantly-dressed battleship searched high and low to no avail.

"I guess this'll have to do," staring at a group of multi-colored strands of fabric. "But do I want a black one or a white one? Hm…." After one prompt look at her hair and feet, Mikasa immediately made up her mind, wrapping a silky-black one around her neck like a tie. "This works."

"You're going to get a lot of odd looks for that, y'know," Jukeini muffled as she slumped onto the mattress, having been vanquished by the indomitable box of goodies.

"It's winter, I'm cold, you lot have stolen my jacket…" she ran off with her fingers, "I think a black scarf is the least of my worries. It's only until I mend my tunic anyway, after I've liberated it from your clutches."

"A tailor is your best bet," the officer groaned, rolling over as she began falling asleep, "though that's not the reason why I say that. Some mangaka named a character after you for good luck, and she wears a black scarf."

"And? Did I help?"

"It's given One Piece a run for its money in the publication houses before and has had an animated television series for it, so I'd say so. I have some tankōbon of the series over there if you want to take a look at it."

"You tried reading it?" Mikasa cracked an amused look as she inspected the volume carefully.

"Mmf. I was wondering if it'd give me an idea what you'd be like when you returned, seeing as she was also considered the strongest of her peers, but meeting you," Tōgō flicked a lazy eye towards the pre-dreadnought, "I'd say that's the only thing you two share in common. You can see for yourself."

"So 'manga' is an illustrated book?" she hmmed in curiosity, leafing through some pages. "Interesting art-style...I was expecting shin-hanga for some reason…now where is this 'Mikasa'…oh there she is! No, we don't look anything alike, her face is rounder and my hair isn't that short…could pass off as Asama though…eh?! Ackerman?! I'm _English_ , not German…though he's not the first one to make that joke…bloody Yashima, Krupp cemented armor isn't made in Germany…hey Jukeini, why are naked people eating everyone?"

"Eh, Jukeini?"

"Jukeini?"

"Ah," Mikasa giggled softly as she approached the curled-up mound on the bed, "young Tōgō has fallen asleep."

It was amazing how large the lieutenant could make the mattress seem considering how small it was. Perhaps Jukeini's child-like sleeping position aided that image; the young woman was affectionately hugging a long white pillow as if it was a teddy bear, a small smile on her lips.

 _"…_ _everyone knows your maturity trails far behind your intellect, Lieutenant. Even Nagato knows how childish you can get, and that's saying something."_

"Ah…that's right."

It was amusing, she thought, how familiar yet unfamiliar the modern world was. A fiesty Kongō that was not Kongō. Implicit Anglo-German jokes that hadn't see the light of day since Yashima was still afloat. And most importantly…

A childish young woman, who despite all urgings to make her act her age, was still able to smugly get away with being cheeky.

Oh dear, was young Tōgō _drooling_?

"You're so much like Shikishima, you know that?" Mikasa scolded her, sitting on the edge of the bed beside the dozing officer.

"I guess I'll keep watch…" _Someone needed to protect this innocent little thing, her ranking be damned. You can't just leave her like that._

 _Are things okay?_ 'Nyan' stared worriedly at the battleship.

 _Yeah._ She signaled back. _This bed is really comfy though_ , giving a little bounce at the springs within it. _You know,_ Mikasa thought as she slid further onto mattress, _maybe I'll just rest here a while_ …

 _I can keep watch from here._

* * *

On the "58 Million Yen": The actual value is probably a few million higher or lower, but the expansion program was extremely costly for Japan, funded mostly by the indemnity received from the Qing Dynasty. Regardless, Japan was in perilous financial straits going into the Russo-Japanese War, something that Mikasa (and likely most officials) were aware of: while Russia had about 106.3 million pounds sterling in its reserves, Japan only had 11.7 million. Realizing how much Japan was quite literally banking on its six battleships (so to speak) would undoubtedly take a toll on the spirits, especially in the face of the very long stalemate at Port Arthur.

I know I undersold Tenryū (I mean, historically she did help take out a New-Orleans class cruiser), but I imagine it'd be difficult to defeat a student of Miyamoto Musashi's school (Niten Ichi-ryū), a skill I imagine Ise would have according to her bravery during Operation Kita (she evaded dozens of submarines in order to deliver supplies Japan needed for its war effort). Miyamoto Musashi was a particularly famous swordsmen and duellist during the Sengoku Jidai, known for his usage of using two swords (notably, he defeated a swordsmen armed with a no-dachi with two wooden swords/bokken) and habitually arriving late to duels in order to unnerve his opponents.

Black Scarf: Yes, the famous red scarf is black in the manga.


	30. Taxi-san

**A/N:** The true significance of the Chinchilla is revealed...fairy humor with a forecast of serious business later on.

* * *

"I'm sure she'll be okay, Admiral," Akiyama smiled encouragingly as they surveyed the landscape around them.

"Mm, I sure hope so," Tōgō the elder bowed his head, deep in thought. The Satsuma admiral was no brooding man, but Tamon Yamaguchi had given him a lot to think about. Moreover, the two people closest to his heart lay strewn about the bed before him, deep in sleep. The former was to his knowledge his only surviving blood descendent; Yamaguchi had tactfully skirted around discussing the fate of his two sons. As for the latter, well…

He descended onto the main deck by means of her black scarf, taking extreme care not to disturb the battleship's rest. The officers used to have a saying back in the day that there were three chronic insomniacs on board: Akiyama, Mikasa, and himself. As a 57 year old man (or was it 86?) he naturally had much to meditate upon before sleeping. Akiyama on the other hand had a mind with the horsepower of a battleship, always disturbing the peace with strategies and what-if's. As for Mikasa, Tōgō doubted that he ever seen her so at peace ever since That Week during Port Arthur. Afterwards, she'd always worry about the fleet, the plans, everything…

Except now.

"Permission to lower the boats and take a look around, Admiral?" A sailor saluted in greeting, before trembling slightly at his expression.

"Lower the boats?" he raised an amused eyebrow, "what for?"

"Right," the fairy answered his own question with a smack to the forehead, "we're on land."

"You sailors are free to take leave as you please," Tōgō ahemmed loudly, "so long as you do not disturb Mikasa too much." At that news sailors seemed to gush forth from every grating of the hull, eagerly lowering ropes and cranes to explore the linen sheets below.

"Aaah!" A fairy cried out as he disappeared from view into the folds of a massive cushion.

"Gotcha Katō! Take a bit more care, will ya!"

The other sailors found out about some different modern wonders.

"Umai, this pillow!"

"Can't be one…where's the bamboo rods?"

"What is this thing?! There's no way that they can be so puffy, or soft…"

"Where are the feathers?" A midshipman shouted as desperately searched for a seam to pry open. "That has to be the only explanation!"

"Oi, Akiyama, can you come down and identify what this wondrous white mountain is?"

"The rooms haven't grown much since our time, haven't they, Admiral?" Hikojirō inquired as he buttoned up his tunic.

"If you take into consideration that they have ventilation now and seem decently insulated despite the cold, I'd say so yes."

 _CRUNCH._

The deck fell dead silent as everyone turned nervously to the ominous sound.

"Mine!"

"MINE!"

"Akiyama's activated a land mine!"

The quiet transformed into a tumultuous panic as everyone bolted over to Mikasa's port side, where the strategist stood nervously atop some noisy, crinkling object.

"Easy now, Akiyama, easy now…"

"Saneyuki, it'll be okay, trust us. Just don't make any sudden moves…"

"What the hell is a land mine doing here?!"

"To think that even this place would be trapped…"

"Give me a hand," a seaman shouted, beckoning to his comrades to lift him over the railings. "We're going to need a counterweight!"

"Is it the Russians, sir?" Another sailor asked nervously at Tōgō's concerned gaze.

"No…that's not Cyrillic."

"What does that say then?" The fairy pointed at a some large italicized letters that were slightly visible from the mine's reverse side.

"That looks…English…" his eyes narrowed as the admiral leaned forward to get a better view. "Do…ri…tos…huh, never heard of that word before."

"I don't think they're an Anglophonic company either," Hikojirō swallowed, "if anything, it sounds Spanish."

"But what are the Spanish doing laying mines in the middle of-"

 _BOOM._

Just as the lowered sailor was about to grab Akiyama's outreached arms and take him to safety, the other sailors lost their balance, causing the five of them to tumble overboard and cause the mine to disintegrate in an almighty explosion. Pale, orange-white pellets flew everywhere.

"Are they…are they?"

"THEY'RE ALIVE!" someone pointed at the none-worse-for-wear seamen standing atop its crumpled remains. There was a loud bout of applause as some other sailors safely returned them to ship.

One of the rescuers kicked a pellet experimentally and sniffed it before laughing madly.

"You fools! This wasn't a mine! It's food!"

"What?!"

"See?" He took a nibble of a triangular corner and swallowed it carelessly, "it's delicious! It's tastes like, mmmm, potatoes with a hint of sesame salt mixed in. If you don't believe me," the fairy pulled over a giant chip and waved it before the assembled crew enticingly, "I'll have this one…and eat it!"

"You sure he's not about to implode?" Hikojirō inquired nervously as some sailors testily joined their mate below.

"No, it makes sense," the strategist replied as he dusted off his jacket of the powdery substance. "The crackling noise just terrified me."

"It was indeed incredibly loud, as if two ships had collided," Tōgō nodded in agreement, "though I am glad you are still safe, Saneyuki."

"I'm worried about the crew gorging themselves on rations that may not be theirs, though," he looked worriedly on as the fairies methodically cracked the chips into edible bits and split them among themselves. There was another loud commotion as another party found another "mine" laden with precious pellets, with they carried over and detonated.

"Amazing! This one tastes look soup!"

"What? How?! That's impossible, let me try!"

"I can even taste the fish in it!"

"Soup without soup and fish without fish? These foodstuffs sure are wonderful!"

"Sound fishy, but I'll take it."

"Ah," Captain Hikojirō patted the chef consolingly as the cook gazed at the feast raging on the bed, "I'll still have some Nikujaga tonight."

"Ijichi," he laughed, "it's fine. I'd mutiny too if I had to eat the exact same soup with not even the slightest variety several times a day. Actually," the fairy rolled up his sleeves, "this might be the opportunity I've been waiting for. These…'pellets' seem to be quite savory. The packages seem to be a good way of keeping them fresh too…Imagine if I could learn the recipe," he stroked his beard thoughtfully, "then we could eat like kings for days."

"In fact, Admiral," the chef gave a salute and then bowed, "may I assemble some of the men to scout for other delicacies?"

"Permission granted," the Admiral replied, tentatively shielding his ears as there was another round of agitated cries.

"Waaaaaggghh!"

"Water, someone give me water!" A fairy wailed, appearing to be on the verge of literally breathing fire.

"Wa-wa-wasabi?!" Another screeched as he read the label. "Whose idea was it to drown these things with it?!"

"Read the bags before you pop them next time," their friend mmm'd in response, nomming on a cheesy triangle.

"Hey, look at this!" A gunnery officer tapped his foot upon a large, flat brick resting on Lieutenant Tōgō's nightstand. "Might be something worth eating."

"What's it called?"

"Uh…let me see…Kit Kat."

"Kit Kat? What kind of name is that?"

"Don't know, but I could find out if I could have a hand over here."

"I'll help!"

"Thanks, chef…on the count of three, we'll flip it over, alright? One…Two…Three!" With much grumbling and grunting, the officer, the chef, and their entourage slowly but steadily flipped it over onto its back.

"There's a list of ingredients over here."

"I see it, thanks…eggs, flour, flavoring…it's chocolate!" He announced, bringing yet another wave of awe and hysteria over the crew.

"Chocolate?! You mean the fancy drink that the Dutch used to bring to Nagasaki?"

"I heard that only aristocrats are Europeans were able to eat it..."

"Isn't it supposed to be really sweet too?"

"I had a bar once from that little company someone set up…aw man, what was it called…anyway, it tasted amazing!"

"Of course we had to find chocolate just as I got full," a seaman patted his stomach disappointedly as he watched the gathering storm.

"Oyoiyoi, don't tell me that only the officers will be able to eat it!"

"One person at a time!" The cook shouted as a throng of sailors began rushing him. "Everyone will get a share, calm down! I'll be serving those who didn't eat those…things, first!"

"There's more than eight hundred of us, no way that it'll last that long!"

"He's right! We've been below deck tending to Mikasa while the others were out partying, we deserve a bite!"

"Calm down, all of you! Just calm down! Don't push!"

"Hey," a landing-force sailor waved his rifle, "we found more of them!"

"There's a whole drawer full of these things!" The gunnery officer announced, tugging it open to reveal a bag filled with bite-sized versions of the brown confectionary.

"That's right, so can you all please—"

 _Brrrm. Brrrm. Squeak._

"Did you hear that just now?" A soldier asked nervously, unslinging his Type 35 rifle.

"Must have been your imagination. There's no one here but USSSSSSS."

 _Thump. Thump. Thump. Squeak._

From its wooden roost a few feet away a gigantic creature stirred, rearing its furry grey head to study them.

"It's a Kirin!"

"By the gods, we have must have awoken it from its slumber!"

"It must want to protect its treasures!"

The furry being paused, flapped its ears, and then broke into a sprint towards the frozen crew surrounding the chocolate.

"Take aim!" The gunnery officer trembled, loading his pistol.

"Fi-"

"WAIT, STOP! HE'S FRIENDLY!" A…female? fairy flagged them down, desperately trying to get between the beast and the frightened sailors. The 'Kirin' skittered to a halt, using its furry rump as a brake as he stopped right before the wide-eyed chef and gave him a probing sniff.

"Taxi-san's just curious, that's all," she explained, panting heavily from the chase. "Don't let him eat any of the chocolate; it's poisonous for chinchillas."

"You mean for this Kirin?" A fairy asked in confusion, carefully pushing the Kit Kat bar beyond its reach.

"He's a rodent called a chinchilla. They come from Latin America. Is Admiral Tōgō and the other officers here?"

"They might be," the chef returned suspiciously, "who are you?"

"You don't recognize me? Ah, that's right," she ruffled her uniform in realization, "I didn't originally look like this."

There was a squawking noise as someone began shouting from a megaphone in the distance.

"This is Captain Hikojirō Ijichi of the Mikasa," the speaker blared, "please state your intentions and identify yourself."

"Oi, Ijichi, it's been a while! I come in peace, though it's best if I explain to Heihachirō in person! Trust me, I come in peace; his great-great grandniece gave me the nickname 'Nyan'!"

"You recognize that woman?" Akiyama murmured.

"No," he shook his head, "which makes her demands all the more confusing. Who are you exactly?" Tōgō shouted, taking the megaphone from Hikojirō.

"Like I said before, it's a long story," she squinted, "though it started out at Greenwich in the Royal Navy College, involved me designing Yamashiro and the Kaba sisters, serving in the delegation to the Washington Naval Treaty, and right before you died a typhoon."

"The only person I know with those credentials is Yuzuru Hiraga…unless you're saying you're…?!"

"What?!" Akiyama shouted in disbelief. "That's him?"

"Like I said before," Yuzuru winced sheepishly, "it's a long story."

"Well, we got all night," Tōgō folded his arms.

"So, Tōgō, remember how I built that experimental cruiser Yūbari as a design study?"

"Yes…Mikasa made mentions of her while we were still at the hospital."

"I came back with her, and we tried doing a study on how exactly this spiritual dead-but-not-dead fairy business works. Somehow, that led to the crazy idea of trying to 'summon' herself. It almost didn't work out. Almost."

"Continue."

"There weren't two of her or her fairies or anything like that…but somehow there was another Yuzuru Hiraga who also returned as a woman for some reason. You're looking at her," she pointed at herself. "That's me."

"What?!"

"I am so confused now," Hikojirō stamped his forehead.

"So where is the original Yuzuru Hiraga?"

"He's at Sasebo! We're low on repair and maintenance personal, so he's overseeing the docks there. I'm just as capable as him though, in case you need anything."

"Actually," Akiyama interrupted, "I do. What's with the nickname Nyan?"

"Oh," she swatted her hands to stress the simplicity of the answer, "Jukeini handed me some pop tarts for breakfast and I liked them. Apparently that reminded her of some rainbow-making cat that roams outer space."

"And you just accepted that name?" Hikojirō spluttered, surprised at how easily she acquiesced to the rather childish title.

"Hey," she shrugged, "I get free food and comfy lodgings in return. I mean, the IJN-I mean the JSDF-provides for us fairies free of charge, but this isn't bad either. I work with Jukeini as well as Yūbari and Akashi anyway, so it's sort of like being roommates or something like that. Speaking of fairies, there's someone who wants to see you, Tōgō, and I'm supposed to take you to meet up with him."

"Right now?"

"If that is not inconvenient at the moment."

"Do you trust her, Admiral?" Hikojirō whispered in Tōgō's ear.

"I do. At least, I have the same gut feeling about her integrity like I did when Mikasa first showed herself. Of course, I'd be honored if you and Akiyama decided to accompany me."

"I'll stay here, Admiral, in case anything happens," Hikojirō smiled wistfully. "Mikasa is technically my command, after all."

"I'll go, sir," Akiyama bowed his head, taking out a clipboard and some sheets of paper.

"Can Akiyama Saneyuki come with us?" the elderly admiral shouted.

"Of course! He'd highly enjoy your musings, Saneyuki."

"So how exactly are we going to meet up with our colleague?" Tōgō inquired as he and Akiyama descended to the mattress. "I imagine it will be a considerable walk considering our stature."

"Easy," she retorted as the giant chinchilla strolled up to her and let out a friendly purr, "we take Taxi-san."

"Taxi-san? You mean we're going to ride that thing?"

"He is the closest thing we have to an automobile, Saneyuki. Besides," the fairy gave the grey beast an affectionate scratch between the ears, "both of us make a small fortune doing this."

"Fortune? Is that even permissible?"

"It's unofficial, but it pays well enough. You don't know about it yet, but there's quite the underground economy among the crews for random trifles, such as old military textbooks or woodcuts, and both of us benefit from it."

"And how exactly does a chinchilla spend yen?" Tōgō's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I don't think Taxi-san can exactly walk into a bank and deposit money into his account."

"The payment is a two-step process," Yuzuru smirked. "Upon reaching your destination you give Taxi-san some leftover food or dinner scraps, and you pay me a small fee for being your driver. Of course, if you don't have any food on you, you can pay me a little extra." At this she reached into her pocket and waved about a small wad of paper bills.

"I would not call 1,000 yen a 'small fee,'" Akiyama paled, taking note of the denomination. "You could buy three suits for the Emperor's court with that money!"

"Ah, in this day and age 1,000 yen is no princely sum. If one of the human personnel wanted a frugal lunch, they'd have to pay 100 yen at the minimum. You can thank inflation for that."

"Even so," Tōgō frowned as he emptied his pockets, "we are neither carrying food nor money on us."

"I have 15 yen from the Taishō era!" Akiyama shouted triumphantly as he produced some silver coins, "but we still can't pay for the fare…"

"Considering who my passengers are, it's free," she cracked a smile, "but hopefully you'll learn to appreciate the costs for the service. Ijichi doesn't want to come?"

"No," the admiral shook his head.

"In that case, you two ready to go?"

Taxi-san squeaked and rested on all fours expectantly.

"Now, how are we getting out of here?" Tōgō as the three fairies climbed atop their furry steed.

"Easy," Yuzuru pointed at a chinchilla-shaped hole in the wall. "We take the fairy entrance out."

"Something tells me that this isn't safe," Akiyama ducked as a nail jutted out menacingly inches above his head.

"I've been trying to save up money to turn this into an elegant freeway to the main hall," she stated, pointing that the tiny-dim bulbs lining the makeshift path to the outside, "but Yūbari and her pet projects keep eating it all."

"I thought you said you pocketed the money," Tōgō shouted.

"Let's just say that I worked out an agreement with my daughter," Yuzuru returned, directing the rodent to heel sharply as it cleared the tunnel and charged into the dormitory.

"Onwards, Taxi-san!" The architect hyah'ed, giving the rodent a gentle nudge that sent him surging forwards.

"My, chinchillas can run fast!" The admiral yelled, taking note of the various doorways whizzing past them in a flash.

"Like I said, he's the closest thing to an automobile we fairies have! The best part is that I didn't even have to train him for this. It's as if Shimakaze or Akagi taught him that if he runs fast for a few minutes he gets epic meals every time."

"Shimakaze?"

"A special destroyer we launched a few years after your death, Heihachirō. She can break 41 knots!"

"And I thought the Tenryū class was fast…"

"There are even fast destroyers in other navies! The French built a class that could break 45 knots in the 30's!"

"I think I remember them…Le Fantasque was their name?"

"That's the one!"

Suddenly they galloped past two fairies, clearly drunk, desperately trying to flag the rodent down.

"Oi! Taxi-san!"

"We need a ride!"

"Will sake do?" The first sailor asked, raising a half-drunk cup of fermented rice.

"Sorry, no can do!" Yuzuru replied. "We're in a bit of rush at the moment!"

The two fairies raised their fists in anger but quickly disappeared from sight as the trio rounded another bend.

"So where are we now?" Tōgō murmured quietly, watching Akiyama hastily sketch a curved arrow on the clipboard.

"Well," Akiyama furtively held up the drawing for the two of them to look at, "we entered out the hallway here, took a sharp turn left there, and have been galloping at probably 8 knots for the last-"

"Saneyuki, are you seriously trying to sketch our entire route out on that piece of paper?" Their driver sighed, no once diverting her attention away from the road.

"Well, we do need to know where we are going in the future. Not exactly easy the easiest feat, considering our diminished proportions."

"I have a map," she lazy flicked a folded wad of paper behind her. "And there are additional copies you can pick up from the workshop or our de facto Navy Ministry. Regardless," the fairy flicked back the black hair beneath her cap, "we're here."

The two Meiji-era officers looked uncertainly at the dark reddish-brown door before them as Taxi gradually came to a stop. He squeaked and looked at them expectantly as his journey came to end.

"Sorry boy, no food this trip."

The chinchilla let out a disappointed squeak.

"Don't worry," Yuzuru patted him assuringly, "I'll give you some sunflower seeds when we get back."

"So where is the person who wishes to speak to us?"

"Go in through the hamster-door and up the fairy network of chutes and ladders; you'll probably find him on the ledge somewhere. Taxi-san and I will be waiting down here in the meantime."

"What if the meeting takes all night?"

"No problem!" The fairy took out a sketchbook from her breastpocket. "That means I can review the artillery modifications Yūbari, Akashi, and Jukeini cooked up."

It didn't take long for the duo to encounter the labyrinthine complex that was the foreign dormitory. Ladder after ladder of fairy-sized bunks lined the walls, though they were all ominously vacant; the sole sign that they were inhabited was the scanty belongings peppering the formation.

"Interesting isn't?"

"What is?"

"That map." Akiyama pointed at the ceiling above them where a map of the Pacific had been painstakingly drawn. They were thumbtacks of different colors pinned to certain geographical locations: white ones atop Japan and some isolated archipelagos, blue ones upon the United States and its territorial possessions, and a single multi-colored pushpin that had been clearly removed repeatedly from the illustration.

"Whoever did that has an incredible sense of artistic talent," Tōgō nodded in wonderment. "Perhaps it was done by the man who wanted us to stop by for a chat?"

"Impossible," his strategist shook his head, "that is too large for one single fairy to complete."

"In that case, we should continue with our journey."

They did not go very far before they spotted a lone fairy tapping his right hand on the table absentmindedly as he gazed out the window, his left occupied with worrying about his collar.

"It's a nice moon tonight, isn't it?" the officer asked pensively.

"I don't think I've seen a half-moon like this in a while," Tōgō agreed, pulling a chair to sit beside him.

"Aye. It's waning though. You know," the fairy smiled to himself, "I'd usually have a better vantage point to enjoy the moonlight, but I've taken leave from that post to convalesce."

"I know that feeling," the elderly admiral nodded in understanding. "I was bedridden with rheumatism for three years in the 1880's. It was a good time to study law while Tetsu tended to my health."

"If only my ailings were physical, Heihachirō," he sighed. "On nights like this, I sometimes think a lot. But I won't ruin your visit with babblings of my regrets. It is an honor to receive you, Gensui."

"Same to you, Chuichi. You were commander of the Takao when we last met."

"I've been promoted since then," Nagumo cracked the Satsuma admiral a small smile. "It was a good time to be in the navy, the 1930's were. I see you also brought someone else with you."

"Akiyama Saneyuki, at your service," he extended a hand a greeting.

" _The_ Akiyama Saneyuki?" Nagumo looked at him in awe. "This is a great honor. I've read all about your strategies during my time in the academy. You plans for a 'decisive battle' at Tsushima…that was incredible. Here," he fumbled frantically about the table for a teapot, which he hastily poured into two ceramic cups. "I brewed some green tea for you two. Have my cup."

"I gladly accept, though I will say that honor does not lie with me," Akiyama corrected as he took the cup. "The victory of Japan in that costly conflict lies with the pirates who developed that strategy during the Sengoku Jidai, and Admiral Tōgō for executing it far better than I could possible imagine. The ten minutes it took Mikasa to turn about were the ten longest years of my life."

"And that victory does not rest solely on my back," Heihachirō continued, serenely sipping on his drink. "Like Nelson, I had my own Thomas Hardy and Cuthbert Collingwood, and it was up to the gunners to do good on my execution."

"You two are truly paragons of the Meiji Era," Nagumo bowed modestly. "I could never hope to express such humbleness even in victory. It was a good time to become a young man, back then…"

* * *

The three men talked for hours, passing back and forth stories of their youth. Akiyama and Tōgō had a good laugh at a prank Nagumo recollected that he had played on his high school friend, Ichiro Saeki, while Nagumo chuckled at Saneyuki's impression of his elder brother, who was often quite annoyed with the amorous advances he received for his good looks.

However, try as he could, Nagumo could not avoid the inevitable subject. The Admiral stumbled upon the topic quite unexpectedly.

"I imagine that your sons joined the Navy," Tōgō mentioned as he poured himself another cup of tea, "seeing as speak of it so highly."

"Yes," his face darkened slightly, "yes, they did. Or at least I did my best to convince them to. Sometimes, though, I wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"If it was the right decision in the end."

"Weren't you saying just a few minutes earlier that it was the best time to serve?"

"The 1930's were, with all the ships being modernized or built. The 1940's, on the other hand…" his voice trailed off sadly. "I had some outstanding successes early on. We were at war on several fronts, and in the Indian Ocean I chased the British all the way back to East Africa and wreaked havoc on the Australians. Then came June 1942. I will never forget Tamon emphasizing his misgivings, stating that somehow the wargaming simulations were off, that I was omitting variables…who could have thought," Nagumo laughed drily, "that a squadron of Americans could weave through our defenses, and bomb our carriers at the exact moment we were switching our armament? Five minutes was all it took, and even though our carriers tried to soldier on…we were finished."

"After 1942, it bode poorly for the Empire. Our position in China steadily grew more untenable, and the United States Navy pushed its advantage as hard as it could…as for your sons, Tōgō, Minoru was safe. He was he commandant at Fukuoka the last I recalled, so he should have survived. Fortune appears to be the lifeblood of your family."

"Perhaps," Tōgō mused mellowly, "but it would have been better if Japan did not have to drink from the bitter cup of defeat in the first place."

"The country had no choice. From the moment the Army blew up the railway line outside Mukden, the die was cast, as they say in the West."

"Perhaps," Akiyama stood up, his voice trembling with restrained anger, "if the Navy and Army were not so keen to overthrow a growing a republic, a republic that I might emphasized was grown by Chinese revolutionaries hosted and even celebrated in our country while they were deemed outlaws by the Qing government, then perhaps Japan would not have suffered at all!"

"Don't get the Navy involved with this!" Nagumo slammed his fist on the table in a rare demonstration of an unchecked temper. "The Army wanted to overthrow the political government from the beginning. The Navy simply wanted to reform the laws through a representative manner."

"So that is why," the strategist pulled out his pocketbook and waved it menacingly, "several navy officers assassinated the Prime Minister in cold blood! That is entirely civilized and characteristic of an honorable institution."

"Don't paint all of us with the same brush! That was the work of radicals. The situation in the Navy was far more complex! Heihachirō, you remember the mess that was the London Naval Treaty, tell him!"

"I will not dismiss Saneyuki's claim. Many celebrated Tsuyoshi's grisly death, and an even greater number applauded the invasion of Manchuria. The Japan of 1930 was not the Japan of 1904. But I will explain the challenges we faced in our mad descent into hell."

"After you died, Saneyuki, the Great Powers attempted to ratify a treaty putting the brakes on the battleship race called the Washington Naval Treaty," the Gensui explained, looking as broken as Admiral Nagumo. "Mikasa barely survived; it was only by the entreaties of the Japanese delegation that she wasn't broken up and used to make automobiles or other devices. To put those who helped our country in our hour of need before the butcher's knife like swine…I couldn't look at myself in the mirror for that for months afterwards. Then came a follow-up agreement called the London Naval Treaty; it applied even harsher rules on what we could and could not keep in service. There were many reasons to agree to it at the time. The United States had forced us to terminate the Anglo-Japanese alliance with the Washington Naval Treaty; many hoped that by being moderate we could restore the treaty of friendship."

"Contrary to what your faction stressed, Nagumo," the officer squirmed slightly at Tōgō's disapproving glance, "it was already clear by 1930 that we could not keep pace with the other powers in shipbuilding without incurring a great expense. After a devastating earthquake in 1923, the economy was in shambles. Then came the Great Depression, which brought any semblance of prosperity crashing down. A burden far worse than the strain of the Russo-Japanese War, or the 58 million yen expended to bring the six greatest heroines our navy had ever seen into existence, was on the horizon if considered to pursue the path of an expanded fleet."

"But then I saw her face. I do not know when you discovered our ships had souls, Chuichi. I do not when the navy accepted that possibility as commonplace. I do not if the other nations around the world had inkling they putting their finest soldiers to death without even the courtesy of a court martial. But I knew I couldn't in good conscience agree to the treaty without voicing some objection. Our country has been in the wrong many times before, and the thought of executing friends and colleagues in cold blood…it was disgraceful. I spoke out against the London Naval Treaty, but perhaps…perhaps I should have done more. I was old and not well by 1930, but I should have done something, anything. I should have motioned to the Ministry of Navy to investigate the possibility that every ship had its own mind, or stood up and condemned the Mukden Incident. That would have been better than resting upon that information, and basically consigning millions of Japanese men and women to their deaths."

"You should not hold yourself responsible, Heihachirō," Nagumo swallowed. "As much as I will admit wrongdoing in vocally pushing for opposing the treaty and in effect saber rattling, you were not the one to make the final decision, or any decision on the subject for that matter."

"You're wrong. Try as you officers might to subvert his authority, under the Meiji Constitution the Emperor is the supreme commander of the Armed Forces. And I taught Hirohito."

"You were…his tutor?" Akiyama croaked.

"More than his tutor. On several occasions he turned to me for advice on affairs, such as the London Naval Treaty. I was the one who unseated Kanji from his position on the delegation, Chuichi, and replaced him with someone more moderate."

"Kanji? _Our_ Katō Kanji? The gunnery officer from the Asahi who tried developing directed fire with all batteries?"

"The very same. No doubt he bears a grudge against for that, which is made even worse by the fact that we frequently rub elbows aboard the Mikasa."

"You know Katō had some very unkind words to say to the American ambassador for that afterwards," Nagumo gave a harsh laugh, "though even if you didn't go the full mile in trying to maintain the peace, it was not Hirohito who launched the first blow. Rather ironic, now that I think about, that the mastermind behind the operation was in fact a member of the Treaty Faction, though Isoroku would have be assassinated for his opinions if he remained behind on the mainland."

" _Isoroku Yamamoto_ was the man behind Pearl Harbor?" Tōgō's jaw nearly fell to the floor in disbelief. "The man who supported both treaties and stressed on multiple occasions the potential of the American military?"

"Wasn't he a midshipman aboard Nisshin at Tsushima?" Akiyama interjected, trying to recall where he had heard that name before.

"The one and same. He wanted to see you too, but his posting prohibited him from joining us. Isoroku's across the Pacific right now aboard Yamato, conducting join exercises with the Americans off the West Coast."

"A pity," the Gensui sighed. "We met a few times before my passing in 1934. He always looked at me funny whenever I suggested that our ships had a mind of their own; I just wonder when-?"

"Midway. We found out together, on the voyage back to Tokyo after…that disaster. The shame of defeat…I wanted to end my life right then and there, having lost my ships and brought about a humiliation for the country. Isoroku didn't say anything, devoting his energy to playing shōgi, but I could see it in his eyes. The regrets of being ill-prepared, of being disorganized for such a debacle…it haunted us both far more than the prospect of launching a third wave at Pearl Harbor. One morning he invited me to a match on Yamato's bridge. We didn't speak for the entirety of it, but at the end of it…we heard crying. Someone expressing how she felt…how we _all_ felt, about having the potential to do so much but achieving so little…was it the same for you, Heihachirō?"

Tōgō grunted in agreement.

"It was like waking up from a nightmare…I thought that all of my fortunes and ambitions, my aspirations, had all amounted to nothing…but then she came…and we've stuck our necks for each other thick and thin ever since. I just wonder though," he chuckled unconvincingly, "Tamon said something that unnerved me. Do you think-?"

"They have to."

Akiyama looked confusedly at the two quiet men before paling at the answer to the unspoken question.

"That is why," Chuichi turned behind him as two kanmusu opened the door behind them and began getting ready for bed, "I always find myself drawn here, whenever I am troubled. I have no close ties to either of them. After losing Akagi, I was assigned to the 14th Air Fleet, which ended up being my last post before I took my own life. But ever since that day, I can never help but wonder…" he paused momentarily until the clatter of fairies entering their ashore quarters beside their resting ships subsided, "how Nagato felt being there, being at the center of it all, as report after report came in of each and every American warship sunk at Pearl Harbor. For us it seemed to be a crushing victory in that moment, but for her…" His voice trailed off. "She and Captain Sugino have been hard at work with an ethos worthy of the Japanese spirit. I am not familiar with the present commandant of Yokosuka, but Nagato works closely all day and all night with his secretary, the cruiser Ōyodo. But even the mightiest warrior was a child once."

The three of them listened as a small, fairy-like being with a small radar headset hugged a stuff animal and sucked her thumb before hiding beneath a pile of blankets and falling asleep.

"So this is another side of their spirit," Tōgō mused as he patted the being comfortingly in her bed. "That explains everything."

Nagumo nodded in response.

"It's funny how I tried to find solace in your company, Saneyuki, Heihachirō, but instead I found more subjects to worry about," the fairy admiral said with an unforced smile. "But I appreciate your visit immensely. Saneyuki, forgive me for losing my temper at you earlier. I confess that I am rather proud of my service in his majesty's navy."

"As am I," the strategist bowed. "I cannot say that I condone the actions of Japan at all during those uncertain times, but I hope that we can work together to build a better future for the country regardless. There is the old saying that holding onto the hot coals of vengeance leads to only the holder being burnt. Let that not be the case with our past actions, be it in life or in the present."

"Indeed, though I shall inform you both that there are some navy men who will not be as flexible as I am," he looked at Tōgō warningly as the men prepared to leave. "Katō Kanji went to his grave cursing the foreign powers for their restrictions; the fact that he died before the United States entered the war does not help matters."

"I will pray that there will be no adversity between us aboard Mikasa."

"I doubt that there will be friction between you two, but if and when he finds out about the outcome of the Pacific War…"

"He will have us both to answer to," Akiyama finished firmly. "And Hikojirō. Slicing open a seventy-year-old wound is beneath a true man of the National Spirit."

"Both of you died in the 1910's, however, so he will have the upper hand in discussing the…'grievances' suffered during that time. I imagine that many of your men will be furious too about Tokyo, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki."

"More than a few officers will be agonized by the news," Tōgō sighed, images of an enraged Omura inciting a mutiny etched in his mind…"perhaps we can find a way to break it to them gently…"

"Abo Kiyokazu might be able to be of assistance," Nagumo offered. "He was a pro-Treaty man through and through, and from what I've been told lived past the War. If the legends of 'Garbage Man Gonsuke' and 'Ant Farm' at Tsushima are to be believed, his comical nature on serious topics may prove useful. With an endeavor of that magnitude though…I can only wish you good luck."

"Thank you Chuichi. May you be of a peaceful mind this early winter morning."

"Thank you, Heihachirō. Thank you, Saneyuki."

* * *

"Oi, what took you so long?" Yuzuru yawned loudly as she pulled her sketchbook off her face. "I almost fell asleep out here!"

"You did say we could take our time."

"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting you to be chatting your heads off at Chuichi until the crack of dawn," the architect pointed out the French windows at the sunrise. "We're late!"

"Late for what?"

"Going back! Do you think I want to be spotted?! C'mon Taxi-san, mush!"

* * *

"Urgh," Goto yawned and rubbed his eyes, opening the door to his office to take a leisurely stroll about the base. That was one of the nice things, ship girl shenanigans aside, about being assigned as commander of one of the JSDF's naval bases. While Yokosuka was nowhere near as nice as his old posting at Sasebo, there were still little sights to behold as he began his day.

There was the grey-and-black form of Mikasa's old body peacefully guarding Tokyo Bay, for instance. Or perhaps, if that was a bore, the lines of missile destroyers, his old command included, resting at their moorings just a few hundred meters away. Or Kongō and Kongō partaking in a morning chitchat and sipping steeped tea before breakfast. Or this giant furry chinchilla with three fairies hanging onto it for dear life zooming past his feet—

 _Wait a moment._

He had to be imagining that last one, right?

Right?

* * *

Bamboo Rods in Pillows: Apparently this was used as cushioning in many older Japanese/Chinese pillows circa the late 1800's/early 1900's.

Chocolate in Japan: Apparently chocolate bars existed in Meiji Era Japan, but the maker was obscure enough that there is no translatable equivalent to name; the legacy of Dutchmen and the chocolate drink would most likely be the concept of chocolate that Mikasa's sailors would be most familiar with.

On historical figures/politics:

I had a hard time characterizing Chuichi Nagumo in a relatively fair manner. He was staunchly pro-Fleet faction, and some sources insinuate harshly that he only received his promotion due to his political leanings (which I think is unfair to the man). Other sources likewise juxtapose him as a crusty, conservative admiral in comparison to Tamon Yamaguchi: one author describes how when Tamon pointed out a flaw in Nagumo's plan for Midway during a wargaming simulation, Chuichi pleaded with the gamemaster/overseers to have Tamon's objection overruled. Therefore, I went with the caricature of Nagumo as a competent but brooding man: many agree that while he was extremely intimate and fond of the people he served with in the navy, Nagumo often was hesitant about whether his sons should have gone into the navy and critical of his own failures-the fact that he shot himself during the Battle of Saipan seems to reinforce this notion.

On Akiyama Saneyuki: Many people may be surprised on how Akiyama seems to be frequently praised despite his seeming irrelevance in Japanese naval history (of Japan's pre-WWII officers, Itoh Sukeyuki and Tōgō Heihachirō are likely the best known ones), but many sources indicate that he was quite pivotal to Japanese Naval Doctrine during his time. Having been an observer of the Spanish-American War as well as an acquaintance of Mahan, Akiyama provided critical information on American Naval Doctrine as well as its weaknesses at Santiago in order to develop the IJN's strategy at Port Arthur (which unfortunately seems to have been followed devoutly well after his philosophy began to become obsolete with the advent aviation warfare). Some state that one of his memos (I believe it was numbered 118, don't cite me on this) was one of the most influential memos delivered to the High Command. He was also often an academic advisor, frequently serving as an instructor at the Naval Academy when not on assignment; no doubt many of his teachings, including a corrupted version of how to fight the USN in a prolonged war, were passed on long after his death in 1918.  
Surprisingly, despite his firm attitudes that Japan should not shirk from the opportunity to fight potential enemies, he apparently expressed sympathy for the ROC-some authors allege that he remained in close contact with Sun Yat-sen even after Japan's 21 Demands and Yuan Shikai's usurpation of the presidency.

Tōgō and Hirohito: Tōgō was Hirohito's tutor for a time during the Taishō era; some authors contend that Hirohito continued to consult him on affairs afterwards well into the 1930's (though how closely his views aligned with the Gensui's are up for debate. Tōgō himself remained avidly opposed to politics even after voicing his opinion on the London Naval Treaty, and some suggest that Hirohito was actually more pro-Treaty than Tōgō was, leading to a schism.)

Inukai Tsuyoshi and the May 15th Incident: In 1932, he was assassinated after a group of young naval officers stormed his quarters and promptly shot him, despite Tsuyoshi's insistence that they listen to his views before killing him. Despite the men being arrested by the police, there was an outpouring of sympathy for the murderers: eleven people actually offered their lives (and fingers) to be killed in the men's stead (their offers were refused by the court). Many authors indicate that with Tsuyoshi's death that Japan shifted from a democratic-leaning to an all-out militaristic style of governance, though Tsuyoshi actually agreed with many of the sentiments that his assassins would later bring to prominence: he was opposed to the London Naval Treaty and approved of the Mukden Incident/Invasion of Manchuria.


	31. Dreams and Nightmares: Me!

**A/N:** On Kanmusu, abyssals, and little girls.

This is the last of the four "fluff" chapters; as stated earlier the next batch (hopefully released next week) resolves the whole-someone's-getting-promoted drama and introduces the premise for the remainder of the arc (as well as providing some context as to how abyssals appeared in this universe).

P.S. Sorry Barrovians for butchering your accent again.

* * *

Mikasa gave out a violent yawn as she tried to rouse her body into wakefulness. Her hull was dead quiet, even by civilian standards. There was only the faint clanging sound of a skeleton group of firemen loading coal into her fireboxes for company.

She flushed slightly in embarrassment at the realization that she had fallen asleep on watch, but quickly felt relieved at the realization that Jukeini had not noticed her mistake. The Kagoshima officer was still sleeping and drooling, dreaming about…well, what _do_ children dream about in their sleep?

A casual turn to the left side of the bed, however, revealed that her friend was not the only one enjoying the luxury that was a modern bed. The battleship's crew of 800 had commandeered any and all vacancies on the massive white pillow, causing it to resemble the aftermath of a battlefield: some slept in the shape of sea stars, others buried their heads into its soft mass as if they ostriches in the sand, and others still posed as if they were musicians in an orchestra or a traveling band. The way they slept, she was certain Admiral, Akiyama, or some other brilliant strategist could predict the day's weather from their position.

Humans were quite fascinating, weren't they? There had to be _some_ reason behind their idiosyncracies…

For instance, look at this little girl who was buried so deep within the fluffy pillow that only her pinafore and shorts-like tights were vis—

 _Wait what._

That couldn't be right, Mikasa thought as she closed in on the mysterious fairy. There were only men aboard her. She would know as she could sense everything inside her; not even stowaways were safe.

Suddenly the fairy rolled over and began rubbing her eyes.

"Mornin'," the girl chirped, springing up from the cushion faster than a mad rabbit. "How'ya doin'?"

"Who are you?" Mikasa demanded.

A familiar face answered the pre-dreadnought's inquiry before the stranger could reply.

"Ah, Mikasa," Tōgō smiled, getting up from the office desk he set up (he was always hard at work tending to business, as expected of Admiral!). "I see you have met our daughter."

"Ah…" the pre-dreadnought nodded in understanding before processing the last statement.

"Wait… _DAUGHTER?!_ "

"Yes," Akiyama affectionately put his arms around her 'daughter', "you and Heihachirō are her parents."

"Saneyuki, you sly fox. You're just trying to pull my leg, right?"

"That's no way to talk about your child," Ijichi chimed in, wagging a scolding finger at the flushed battleship. "You should apologize to her at once."

"Yeah, if anything it's about time you two tied the knot," Abo chuckled as he entered the fray. "All the times you and Heihachirō were alone together during Port Arthur…do you really think we didn't know what was going on during those 'meetings'?"

"We weren't anything like that!" she waved frantically.

"Then how do you explain _her_?" Saneyuki pointed again at the girl, who was babbling something through the strategist's arm, which was placed against her mouth like a gag.

"But…but…I'm a ship…and Admiral's a human…how…how does that even work?" Mikasa spluttered, turning redder than a tomato with every word. "I don't even have the facilities for that sort of thing for crying out loud!"

"Who said anything about childbirth, Mikasa?" Tōgō smirked. "Like the Greek goddess Athena, she just came out of my forehead," giving her a gesture of having a splitting headache before something burst forth.

"But…but…" she buried her face in her hands in futile attempt to save herself, her body having long since contorted itself into some indescribable shape to preserve what was left of her dignity. "Hieiiiiiiiiii-!"

"Iya me!" The little fairy cooed in greeting as she freed herself from Akiyama's clutches at last.

 _Click. Snap._

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The four fairy officers fell to the floor, rolling about in mad laughter.

"Her face!"

"This! Is! Golden!"

"Saneyuki, you got this on film, right?" Abo snorted, tears rolling down his face from trying to interrupt his chuckling fit long enough to ask the question.

"True Englishmen do not express their emotions," Akiyama stated in his best mock-English accent, "except when they do."

"I'd never thought I'd see the day Mikasa express her true emotions," Ijichi grinned. "Heihachirō, your acting was perfect!"

"A-Admiral, you were in on this too?" the pre-dreadnought stared in disbelief.

"Kind of hard not to be when you find random drawings on your gunnery calculations," Abo chortled.

"Or discover that the ship's entire salt supply is missing," Ijichi added.

"Or notice that all of your textbooks have been painstakingly unbound then rebound…with all the pages backwards," Akiyama shook his fist playfully.

"You know, Mikasa," Tōgō chuckled, "when you were first ordered there was an incredible amount of uncertainty over what to classify you as. Some British spectators claimed you were a modified Majestic-class battleship, others a Formidable one. Supposedly, the Navy Ministry considered you to be the fourth member of the Shikishima-class, an identification I refused to believe seeing how…unsimilar you are in your demeanor, compared with Shikishima. So I believed, at least, until I found a _certain_ _someone_ trying to have fun in the officers' bathtub…" he shook his head, a small smile still on his face. "I don't know how the shipyard workers could stand you…"

"I behaved at Vickers!" Mikasa protested hotly, before giving The Glare at her smaller counterpart. "What evils have you been committing behind my back? Who are you, really?"

"I's you, and you's us!" The little girl waved dramatically, her eyes glimmering with excitement. "Y' m'giant self! An' besides," she put her hands on her hips as she did her best scolding mother impression, "remember th'time we follow'd the foreman alla bowt th'yard an' blew on 'is hair cos 'e wos makin' Mr. Marrett a har' time? 'e dun sin a thin', so 'e went mad!"

"He deserved every last moment of it. The man was hopping mad by evening-time."

"You're not helping your case, Mikasa," Akiyama laughed at the battleship's confession.

"Oh?" Mikasa raised an amused eyebrow. "You haven't seen anything yet. One time, there was this stuffy aristocrat hurling insults at the workmen and I— I'm digging myself a bigger hole, aren't I?"

"No, please go on," Abo replied innocently. "We are totally not learning incriminating information about you."

"Really, who _are_ you?" The pre-dreadnought repeated herself again as the little girl happily whirled about in her pinafore.

"I's told you, you's us!" she pointed at herself.

"Really? Then what am I thinking about right now?"

"You's wonderin' if ye can shut m'trap up with yummy coal," she rubbed her tummy happily, "but MEkasa has awlready eatin' her fill."

"Drat."

"I wouldn't say so, Mikasa," Hikojirō smirked. "Notice how dark her dress is? That's coal dust. This morning the firemen had to drag her out of the bunkers as she had dived into middle of them and began eating her way out. You can thank her for the reason why you only have 200 tons of coal left."

"What? What happened to the other 1800 tons?! That was enough to last me 9,000 miles! Oh, you gluttonous fiend-!"

"Hey, Big Me eats too much! Mekasa needs ta eat too! Us gets hungary win I ha' ta do things!"

"Gosh, y'really us, aren't ye?" Mikasa sighed as she scratched her face in defeat, unintentionally slipping into her native accent in the process.

"It appears that when you became...whatever you are now, Mikasa, that your body brought back every living soul back inside it as a fairy. Including, perhaps paradoxically, your younger self."

"Na' tha' yung!" little Mikasa protested. "I's hm," she ran off her fingers. "I's three!"

"You're counting from the date you were laid down," kanmusu Mikasa sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're more like one. And can you speak in Received Pronunciation?"

"Awh, but Barra's s'cool!"

"Look at the faces Akiyama and Ijichi are making. They can't keep up with our conversation," jerking her head at the officers' wild eyes as they tried to decipher their bizarre dialogue.

"Okay…" the fairy's head drooped as she made a brrrr'ing sound. "I'll speak like a proper English gentlewoman," raising her voice to a mocking falsetto.

"You know what I mean…" she sighed again, this time with increased exasperation before turning to her amused superior ."Did you understand that conversation at all, Admiral?"

"Slightly," he replied, giving her a crooked grin. "It's definitely not West Country English, but it's easier on the ears than Cockney."

"I'm glad…" Mikasa stroked her hair thoughtfully, "You know, it's been a while since I've slipped into that dialect. The last time I said 'us' instead of me, Fuji joked that there was a Vickers 'Klique' in the Navy: Katori, Kashima, 'Kasa, and Kongō."

"I could change that!" fairy Mikasa offered.

"I'm in charge, thank you very much. Do you even do anything besides gorging yourself?"

"I can help with orders!" she puffed her cheeks. "I know what you're thinking, so I can help the crew take advantage of your impulses and requests!"

"That sounds useful," Tōgō said encouragingly.

"For some reason I don't believe that," Mikasa pursed her lips, but was promptly answered by the sudden sensation of finding it easier to breathe.

"I opened your blowers so your intake tubes are less congested," Mekasa stated as she opened her eyes and unclenched fists. "Do you feel better now, Big Me?"

"Yeah...thanks…sorry about not believing you…"

"It's fine," the little fairy frantically shook her head...though I was wondering," she put a thoughtful finger to her lips, "can I come out sometime?"

"What do you mean, come out?" the pre-dreadnought demanded, feeling an odd tingling sensation run through her.

"Since little Mikasa and big Mikasa are the same person, we can switch places! That means you can become a fairy, and I the big Mikasa!"

"You? Guide me and my body around for a day? You jest," Mikasa snorted. "That would be inviting a bull into a china shop."

"Awwww, but look at thing over there!" She pointed at the closed form of Jukeini's notebook computer. "You don't want to open it? Look how flat it is! What does do it do? What is it for? It's so shiny!"

"First off, that is not mine. Second of all, I'm not about to break something I have no idea what it's even used for."

"See! This is why I need to come out! We need to identify all the stuff! ALL of it!"

"Younger me, please, no…"

At that moment Jukeini began stirring.

"Oh no! Mikasa, we've woken a giant! Run away!"

"You know Admiral, Akiyama, Abo, Captain" Mikasa groaned as she swatted her face, "I actually don't know how you could stand being with me either."

* * *

 _"_ _What do you mean we're fighting the world?!"_

 _"_ _Perhaps I could have worded that better," Yamaguchi replied with a carefree smile. "Japan is fighting Japan. America is fighting America. Germany is fighting Germany. Britain is fighting Britain."_

 _"_ _You're still making little sense, Tamon. Tōgō and I have been studying modern affairs, there was no mention of any global strife or impending World War anywhere."_

 _"_ _Because the war is not physical. At least, it is not a conflict between men in the conventional sense."_

 _The Satsuma admiral's eyes widened in realization._

 _"_ _Tamon...we're fighting the ghosts of the Imperial Navy, aren't we?" Hiryū's admiral merely nodded in response._

 _"_ _Every ship whose spirit has not returned and vowed to protect her homeland...is an enemy." Akiyama and Hikojirō paled at that news._

 _"_ _Impossible!"_

 _"_ _But Satsuma! Kawachi! Katori! Kashima! Those battlecruisers whose designs were in the works...we celebrated the launch of each and every warship as if they were our children! We even used to release a flock of doves with every launch!"_

 _"_ _And then we had them lined up and shot when it was their time to die. Broke them up. Reduced them to scrap metal. Even forced their newer counterparts to use them as practice for their marksmanship," Tamon laughed wryly._

 _"_ _If they were our children, we were horrid fathers."_

 _The entire bridge fell into an awkward silence._

 _"_ _What about the spirits who perished in battle?" Tōgō pressed. "Surely they-"_

 _"_ _Would bear us no ill will? Oh, how wrong you are…!" Tamon chuckled once more. "It seems, Heihachirō, that despite my tardy discovery of the true nature of our fleet, I have learned something you have not. These spirits are not just brave women fighting in the name of the country and its values. They are the country's values. Every grievance, every mistake, every heroic victory and crushing defeat, they remember it, and remember it well. To forget, let alone forgive, these memories...it's not in their blood. I think you've seen enough of the present to agree with me, that Japan has come a long way over the past hundred years. Many 'kanmusu,' to use their term, would agree, but deep down inside...they haven't moved on. They_ _ **cannot**_ _move on. To think that after all that sacrifice, all that loss, that we would sit down at a table and agree to forgive the past and try and move forwards...it's unthinkable."_

 _Knock. Knock._

A little girl peeped into his quarters where the admiral lay sprawled out on his bunk, deep in thought, .

"Oh sorry Mr. Tōgō, you look busy. I'll go bother someone else."

"No, please stay."

"Are you sure?" she flapped her pinafore uncertainly.

"To be honest," he smiled at her weakly, "I was thinking about some things."

"What sort of things?" the young girl tapped her chin as she flounced onto the mattress.

"You said you and Mikasa are the same person, correct?" Tōgō knocked on the room's walls that constituted the battleship's hull for emphasis.

"Kinda," the little fairy rammed her hands together. "We have the same thought process so I can predict what she's thinking, but…"

"But…?"

"Sometimes I know she's thinking about things I've never heard of. Like Mr. Tōgō, what is a Great White Fleet? Is it a school of sharks threatening Japan?" she glanced at him worriedly. "Do we need to hunt them?"

"No," the admiral laughed and patted her. "It's a term the Americans used for a detachment they sent on a tour around the Pacific. They were painted in gold and white liveries, similar to what you were in when you were first delivered."

"Oh. Well, I was also in black and white, too! Makes for the perfect camouflage when you want to take a bunker dive and eat," the fairy gave a crooked grin. "In fact," she grasped her stomach as it gave an ominous rumble, "do you have anything scrumptious for a little girl like me to feast upon?" With the guidance of her elderly commander, little Mikasa giggled and zoomed over to corresponding drawer and began emptying its contents.

"Do you mind if I ask what is the last thing you remember, little child?" Tōgō smiled as he saw her take a nibble of some chocolate.

"Mmmm, everyone in the papers was expressing their surprise that you were being appointed. Some people thought it was a mistake, but the Mr. Navy People said you were the best one for the job if there were bears to wrestle. Mr. Tōgō," the admiral gave a frightened start as he noticed a familiar shine pass over her eyes, "did we defeat all the Russians?"

 _"_ _Tell me, Heihachirō...at Tsushima, did you notice Mikasa acting strangely?"_

 _"_ _No," Hikojirō denied Tamon's query firmly. "She accounted herself honorably. Not once was she tempted with the slightest possibility of malice-"_

 _"_ _Until the very end," Heihachirō and Saneyuki interrupted in unison, their faces drained of all color._

* * *

 _"_ _The Russians are striking their colors. Heihachirō, I beg you," Akiyama pleaded as the admiral watched the unfolding carnage impassively. "As one officer to another, give the order to cease fire!"_

 _"_ _I am not the one you should be asking, Saneyuki," Tōgō turned, revealing the unusually grim expression on his face. "You should be asking Mikasa."_

 _"_ _Mikasa? But why?"_

 _An eerie laughter echoed ominously on deck in reply, sending chills down both of their spines. It was no sound a human could make, nor anything else on the planet for that matter._

 _"_ _Who said I'm done with you?" a sultry voice slurped. "SINK! ALL OF YOU!"_

 _The officers on deck yelped as the bridge lurched violently, threatening to cast them into the sea. A couple of thousand meters away a Russian vessel burst into flame, unable to withstand the ferocious raking of high explosive shells. As the smoke cleared, both of them caught sight of their flagship's spirit standing serenely a few meters away, her back turned to them. Tōgō and Akiyama craned their necks timidly in Mikasa's direction, hoping to catching of glimpse of her mood. They quickly wished that they had not been so eager to observe her expression._

 _Mikasa dipped her back briefly before swinging her left arm as if she was throwing a baseball, a movement that was rewarded by the sound of another broadside being discharged. The action ever-so-briefly exposed her face that had been concealed menacingly beneath her cap, a face so terrifying that even the wickedest oni of old would have been cowed into submission. Her teeth had transformed into razor-sharp fangs, and her dark, near pitch-black eyes burned brightly as the battleship took pleasure in ensuing chaos._

 _"_ _You don't deserve to live on this earth. For what you have done. For what you do. For what you will do. You and your people should be EXTERMINATED!"_

 _"_ _Tell me, Nikolai," she gave a sickly grin at the Russian battleship frantically signalling her, "before I came, you cowed an entire people into submission with the threat of making them your puppet if you resisted your gunboat diplomacy. How does it feel," the grin grew into a maniacal smile as she admired the damage, "to be my puppet?"_

 _"_ _Mikasa, please," Akiyama was doing his best not to yell at her and also suppress the urge to flee, "the Russians are surrendering. You recognize the signal, do you not?"_

 _"_ _Oh, so I need to pull harder on the strings~? THEN BE MY GUEST!"_

 _By now the crew of Imperator Nikolai I had pulled out every scrap of white cloth they could find, shirts, table covers, anything, and began crying in desperation as the cannonfire intensified._

 _"_ _Mikasa…" Tōgō began softly. She ignored him, the spirit still intent on giving her foe the coup-de-grace._

 _"_ _MIKASA!" his dear friend still did not heed his call._

 _"_ _Mikasa, please…"_

 _"_ _Please…"_

 _"_ _Please...stop…" his voice was at its breaking point from grief. "Come back...Mikasa…please..."_

 _"_ _Just...come back…"_

 _"_ _Admiral?"_

 _For a moment he was afraid. Had he done this? Had the person he had gotten known and trust for a year been devoured by her unrestrained fury? When Tōgō at last found the courage to look up, there was not even the slightest shadow of the former monster that had possessed her. All he saw was a pair of worried, grey eyes looking at him anxiously for orders._

 _"_ _Admiral, what is it?"_

 _"_ _Cease fire. The enemy is beaten," he pointed at the surviving hulks a good distance away. "We must tend to the survivors and make account of them."_

 _"_ _As you wish!" she nodded vigorously, before hesitating at the expression on Akiyama's and Tōgō's faces. "Is something the matter?"_

* * *

 _"_ _As I feared," Tamon said simply, the weak smile dissipating from his face entirely, "and to witness it first hand too…"_

 _"_ _You mean, they are all-?"_

 _"_ _Capable of such acts of vengeance? Funny you ask that, as an American admiral, Halsey I believe his name was, gave me the same question when we first met each other as fairies. He was not there, you see, for the American victory at Midway, but even back then he sensed that something was wrong upon his return to duty aboard his beloved carrier Enterprise. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that the other ships (if they had spirits; Halsey was not certain at the time) were avoiding her, not from shyness but from fear. What a strange reaction to have, he thought, considering her decisive impact on the outcome of the Pacific War in the Americans' favor! Then, he remembered a remark he had made in fury upon surveying the devastation at Pearl Harbor: 'Before we are through with them, the Japanese language will only be spoken in hell.'"_

 _The only sound uttered upon Hiryū's bridge was the tinkling of a button as it fell to the floor._

 _"_ _Every act of cruelty or kindness that we make, they do not forget. Even if it was something that we may think or do in the heat of the moment, it impresses upon them deeply. That they lose their sisters and friends to the enemy strengthens their resolve to never forgive. In time, they do, perhaps. A few years ago Hiryū and the other Japanese carriers succeeded in having an extremely terse conversation with the American battleships they destroyed at Pearl Harbor, and Enterprise likewise with our own carriers. But even now, I doubt that Hiryū can sit down with Arizona without the latter giving her the cold shoulder or worse, breaking down."_

 _"_ _I believe you are being a bit pessimistic, admiral," Tomeo chortled. "I am sure you aware of the 'enterprises' Yamato and that American aircraft carrier have been up to across the ocean? Or the little gift exchanges that happen ever so frequently between the kanmusu and the USN?"_

 _"_ _No doubt that their friends and family have returned from the dead has eased their pain, Tomeo, but regardless...Heihachirō, I would be afraid for Mikasa. She has no one to turn to."_

 _"_ _She has us and Kongō," Tōgō corrected._

 _"_ _A battleship ordered after one of her greatest ordeals and several hundred crewmen who make up her lifeblood. Of her peers among the reborn Navy there are none. The ships that sank, the vessels blown to smithereens by mines are not here to comfort or assure her. A mind alone to such memories is a dangerous one."_

* * *

 _They remember everything._

 _"_ _HELP!"_

 _"_ _WE'RE DROWNING!"_

 _"_ _SOMEONE SAVE US!"_

 _"_ _Captain."_

 _Every transgression._

 _"_ _Captain!"_

 _Every violation._

 _"_ _Captain Tōgō!"_

 _A mind alone to such memories is a dangerous one._

 _"_ _For God's sake, as one man of honor to another, save them!" The English captain pleaded as he crawled up the cruiser's hull._

 _"_ _I have done my job here," the captain of the Naniwa replied firmly. "Once the last of your men are aboard, we will depart."_

 _"_ _But what about the Chinese soldiers?" he pointed at the pleading men flailing frantically in the water, their transport having since been long sunk._

 _"_ _I will leave them to their fate, they threatened your lives, did they not?"_

 _"_ _You are condemning to death one thousand men, Captain Tōgō! Innocent men!"_

 _"_ _So innocent are they, that mutinied against your officers, flew a false flag belonging to a foreign nation, and then proceeded to launch an attack against us?"_

 _"_ _They were scared, frightened!"_

 _"_ _Frightened out of their minds that they planned to use your colors to kill my own sailors?!" he snapped. "Such blatant misuse of a country's sovereignty is against the etiquette of war!"_

 _"_ _As is leaving all of them to die! Some of them are just young boys, farmers conscripted by the Manchus for Korea!"_

 _"_ _Some of my men have left behind young wives and children. Do you think I want to write them letters of how their husbands and fathers were shredded by cannonfire that I could have prevented if I hadn't hesitated?! With all due respect, captain, as a commander there are some decisions that I must make for the good of the country. This-"_

"-should have been one of them," he croaked. "If those men had reached their destination, the Japanese units stationed there would have been defeated. A commander may be human, but there are times where he must be a monster."

 _In the heat of the moment did he really feel that way?_

It was his personal philosophy to accept full responsibility for his actions, but doing so did not come without feelings of remorse nonetheless.

Did Mikasa know about his role in the sinking of the Kowshing? Did Naniwa, oh, gods, did Naniwa _approve_ of his decision? He and that cruiser had been there for pivotal diplomatic incidents, from observing the American annexation of Hawaii to the start of the Sino-Japanese War, yet even after he had met Mikasa not once had it occurred to him that Naniwa might have her own spirit. If she did, and if Naniwa ever met Mikasa…

Did that mean that that monster that Akiyama and himself were unfortunate enough to witness was his own creation?

It did not matter that eventually the English captain thanked him for saving his life, having been ultimately one of only three survivors of the Chinese mutineers. It did not matter that observers worldwide approved of his decision, channeling their anger at the Beiyang Army for cowering behind a foreign flag. In the end, one thousand and one-hundred Chinese troops drowned, and he had made the fateful decision to look the other way while it was happening.

And even worse, a spirit who became his closest confidante besides Tetsu, his wife, seemed to have been _encouraged_ by that decision.

What had he done?

 _Tap. Tap._

"Is Mr. Tōgō okay?" the little girl worried her arms anxiously.

"Mikasa...if I told you that we defeated the Russians but then made peace with them...how would you feel?"

"Hmmmm…." she scratched her chin. "If Mr. Tōgō made them run away, that's fine with me!" He quietly blew a sigh in relief; in that respect Tamon's theory was false.

 _But this Mikasa is not the Mikasa I knew._

"Can I sing you a nursery rhyme?" young Mikasa cooed. "Humpty dumpty sat on a wall…"

 _"_ _What the bloody hell are you two doing?" Hikojirō screwed his head in confusion at the two stiff figures occupying Tōgō's room. On his left was a young black-haired woman, her body contorted to the point she resembled an angry giraffe. On his right was a sagely man giving his most intimidating scowl, as if someone had him told that he had to sit very still for an ancient daguerreotype._

 _"_ _True Englishmen do not express their emotions," Mikasa stately calmly through the corners of her mouth, not once shifting her pose._

 _"_ _This contest is silly," Tōgō snorted, though he too refused to yield. "We are both serving the Japanese Navy, despite our formative backgrounds in England. Besides, I am at a disadvantage. I have spent only seven years in England, where as you had your entire childhood there."_

 _"_ _That is true," she conceded, "but is it not the mark of a commander to find victory in the face of adversity? Besides," Mikasa covered her mouth conspiratorially, "I have learned something terrifying."_

 _"_ _And that is?"_

 _"_ _Admiral needs to smile more," at this comment she dived over and began fruitlessly tugging at his lips upwards with all her strength, which remained rooted in a stone-like frown, "and he needs to teach me kenjutsu."_

 _"_ _Kenjutsu? Why not gekiken?"_

 _"_ _Gekiken is a sport. Kenjutsu is an art. Besides, I want to learn from the master himself!"_

 _"_ _Ahem." Hikojirō cleared his throat._

 _"_ _Oh. Hello, Captain! Care to witness my latest match?"_

 _"_ _After watching you take out an entire gun crew in a wrestling match, I'll pass." He then shifted into a more scolding pose. "Akiyama's been acting weird. Did you take his canteen of sake again?"_

 _"_ _If I did," Mikasa replied evasively, "then it wouldn't be here. That man needs to learn to drink less, anyway. Do you think I forgot the whispers about town when he and his brother were found passed-out on the streets like pigs?"_

 _"_ _That was after they challenged you to a drinking contest," Hikojirō resisted the urge to smack his forehead._

 _"_ _Well, two human livers versus twenty-five Belleville boilers is pretty even in my opinion," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean Yoshifuru was on his fourth urn when he started slurring, that's pretty impressive."_

 _"_ _Are you hearing this?" Hikojirō mouthed incredulously at his superior, who merely smiled and shook his head in reply._

 _"_ _Besides, doesn't he have soybeans in dresser? He's always munching on those if he's not trying to drill a hole through my walls with his meditative stares."_

 _"_ _I believe Kiyokazu was complaining about the flatulence," the captain replied simply._

 _"_ _Oh you want to talk about flatulence? A few nights ago I heard the midshipman proposing a wind-breaking contest…"_

What happened to that Mikasa?

He was unfamiliar with the shy, timid warrior that embodied his quarters, nor with the cheeky girl who was ravaging his cabin.

 _"_ _Admiral!" A frightened sailor burst into Sasebo Naval Headquarters, on the verge of bursting into tears._

 _"_ _It's Mikasa! There was...there was…"_

 _"_ _Calm down, sailor. One step at a time. What is it?"_

 _"_ _We tried everything, Admiral! But she, but she," now there was a steady stream of water rolling down his cheeks. "Mikasa is-"_

"But all the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put Humpty together again!"

"So that's it," he murmured softly, absentmindedly reaching out to pat the girl's head as she burst into another rhyme.

"Don't worry, Mikasa," Tōgō said to no one in particular, "we'll put you back together again."

"I promise."

* * *

Mikasa and MEkasa/Mekasa: I'm going to use the latter term to describe fairy!Mikasa so that it doesn't get confusing.

The Akiyama Brothers and drinking: (I am aware that Akiyama Yoshifuru is somewhat controversial in Korea; for what exactly I do not fully understand as searches for war crimes related to Yoshifuru have turned up blank) _Saka no Ue no Kumo_ notes that Yoshifuru had a lifelong mantra of favoring drinking over romance, something that he tried to impress upon his brother but failed (both brothers married later in life). Shiba quotes him as essentially telling Saneyuki: "When you are depressed, drink. When you have carnal urges, drink. When in doubt, drink."

The Kowshing Incident: While most people likely remember Tōgō as "The Nelson of the East" or for his actions at Tsushima, in the 1890's he was known for something far different and far more controversial: the sinking of the Chinese transport ship Kowshing. During a patrol about Korea, Tōgō aboard the cruiser Naniwa spotted a British transport ship ferrying Chinese soldiers, which was suspected of heading towards Korea to fight Japanese troops garrisoned there. After the Kowshing refused to follow the Naniwa, Tōgō issued an ultimatum: if you do not follow me, I will fire at your ship. The Beiyang Army soldiers panicked, mutinied against the English crew (who were planning to slip away to safety during the fighting), shot 40 of the 43 English crew members, and then prepared to fight the Naniwa. However, Tōgō fired first, rescued the surviving English crewmembers, and to the outrage of many European observers, sailed away, leaving some thousand Chinese troops to drown (300 were saved by a passing German ship, but the remainder perished). Ultimately, an international investigation legally cleared Tōgō's name by stating that the Chinese had tried to use to the English flag after disposing of its crew to provoke foreign anger against Japan, though I would like to think that Tōgō privately expressed remorse for his actions.

On Mikasa and Imperator Nikolai I: Some sources indicate that towards the end of the battle that there was confusion over the terms of the Russian fleet's surrender. As the acting commander of the survivors realized that his position was hopeless, he hoisted a flag considered the conventional signal for surrender. Some authors suggest that the Japanese continued to maliciously fire upon the surrendering Russians, while others state that the code flown was in fact not in any of the Japanese log books and thus misunderstood. Regardless, the Russians' situation grew so desperate that the crew later hoisted white tablecloths (which again, cynics suggest that Tōgō continued to refuse to relent as the Beiyang Army had tried a similar tactic during the First Sino-Japanese War), and then eventually flew the Japanese insignia to show their intentions. In the Zuluverse, this action is the consequence of the darker, abyssalesque aspect of Mikasa when she was still whole, a consequence of remembering the darker side of the IJN and IJA. This manifestation however is not exclusive to kanmusu; as stated in Me! all ship spirits during their original incarnation were capable of such vengeance (as Halsey and Tamon theorize Enterprise expressed at Midway).


	32. (Side Story, Canon) Playing Goddess

**A/N:** I haven't forgotten this story at all. Twelve stillborn drafts of next few chapters lay in the writing folder on my desktop. I have a solid idea of the direction I want to take with the plot, but have trouble satisfactorily executing it.

The next chapter involving Mikasa (in addition to introducing the premise of her first mission) is also a massive infodump providing backstory to the emergence of abyssals, as well as some of the diplomatic side effects surrounding the return of kanmusu/ship girls, meaning that more often than not it's massive wall of text. Naturally disliking this format (especially considering that most of it is being parsed out in the form of a conversation between Mikasa's superiors-everyone should be engaged in it rather than just listening to a speech-length answer), I've been trying to find more organic ways of disclosing that information. It was also a bit troublesome as sometimes the writing implied an "[insert country here] stronk, please nerf," which went against my intentions: every nation who receives ship girls in this story will have a moment(s) where their spirits do something, well, "utterly badass."

In the meantime enjoy this self-contained side-story detailing events on the other side of the world, on the United States's Atlantic Coast to be exact. Originally Iowa was going to have a non-cameo presence in the "Dreams and Nightmares" arc, but I quickly realized that doing so conflicted with remarks made by other commanders on her location. Therefore she'll play a major role here, despite not being the focal character (hopefully you'll find her characterization likeable-this is probably one of the few times where I break with the Kancolle personalities).

This world-building snippet will introduce the first person in what I like to call the "O.M.A.H.A. quintet." Given that it compresses what would essentially be a full-blown arc into several thousand words, there'll be a lot more action and personality quirks in this chapter.

* * *

 _Bzzt._

"Who is it... _again_? That's the twelfth time she's asked me about this in the past three days!"

"You're not the only she's been pestering about this...personally I'm impressed with how persistent she is."

"Doesn't she understand that we're busy? The Atlantic may be boring, but it's certainly not laid back even for us battleships. Besides, doesn't the saying go that the older you are, the more patient you get?"

" _Wiser,_ not more patient. In her defense, your sister _did_ promise to take her out to see it before it gets pulled out of theaters, and this week _is_ the last week they're showing it."

"Yeah, my sister, not me...why are you looking at me like that? Oh, to hell with it then. Rock, paper, scissors…"

* * *

Iowa was _not_ in a good mood.

Well, to be fair she was _never_ in a good mood (her public, airheaded persona aside), but today her attitude was downright venomous. The lead ship of the legendary fast battleship class could name a hundred other good uses of her time, from reading Pennsylvania's daily excruciatingly-detailed rants about her sister's escapades to fighting a hundred abyssals single-handedly.

Of course, both of the aforementioned options would be a cakewalk compared to the Herculean challenge before her.

All because she chose fucking paper.

Iowa held her breath and counted to ten as she rounded a corner and came face-to-face with her contact, the latter's lithe form leaning against a column within the metro station. Famous ship girls such as Iowa often went incognito during their leave; it was very difficult enjoying the little free time they had whenever a retinue of fans, try-hards, news reporters, and other hangers-on desperately trailed every move they made. For that reason she had chosen a relatively mundane outfit: a plaid button-down shirt concealed beneath a large navy-blue hoodie with a matching pair of jeans. Aside from the "BB-61" emblazoned in bold white letters on her sweater's front (she couldn't pass an opportunity to represent her old museum form and her caretakers), she could pass a college girl. An extremely tall college girl, but that was beside the point.

Especially in comparison to her companion's attire.

It was extremely obvious that her counterpart was not human; anything and everything about her was so out of place that Iowa couldn't even pass her off as a hipster if she tried. No aesthetic maverick would dare be caught with that unholy combination. For instance, who the hell wore starch-white robes that would make the Hellenic gods proud in this day and age? Okay, maybe Iowa had overreacted considering that the other ship girl was clearly wearing a blouse and capris underneath, but dammit were those fancy wearable tapestries really necessary?

That was to say nothing about the white blindfold wrapped tightly over her eyes as if she was Lady Justice (Really? How could she even see with those things? Iowa was quite certain that she was _not_ radar-equipped, and her service record did not lend itself to an expertise in blind accuracy), or the vintage paper-white iPod Nano she was absentmindedly thumbing through at her waist. If the ship girl had been a recent summon unfamiliar with modern technology Iowa would find the latter's taste forgivable, but this spirit had been around for _ages_. Even the eldest of the United States's ship girls, such as Constitution, had a better grasp on what did and what did not constitute electronic efficiency. A modern smartphone, which was no doubt the sizeable rectangular bulge in her right pocket, could easily produce music of comparable quality with the twelve-year old device in hand.

Most troublesome of all, however, was the golden pendant wrapped snugly about her neck and flanked by equally-golden hair on either sides. The neck ornament was no simple decoration but instead a very large and very egregiously crested shield that began with a neat array of stars atop a blue background and ended with alternating patterns of red-and-white stripes, a design that was as tell-tale of her true identity as Japan's Imperial Chrysanthemum or the Romanov's Twin Eagles. They were supposed to be concealing their presence, not announcing it with every step!

Of course, voicing this annoyance was diplomatically impolite, so Iowa elected to take the nobler route.

"Ahem," the blonde cleared her throat loudly. Much to Iowa's surprise the other ship girl cocked her head instinctively in the fast battleship's direction and gave her a sharp smile.

"Glad to see that you were willing to honor your sister's promise," the other blonde grinned, removing her earbuds in greeting. The blindfold nevertheless remained in its death-like grip across her face.

"Don't mention it," Iowa grunted in reply, still slightly sore from her bad choice in rock-paper-scissors.

"North Carolina won't be joining us today?" she inquired as the two of them began their descent into the metro station.

"No," her towering counterpart replied flatly, carefully avoiding expressing her surprise at the ship girl's pinpoint accuracy in identifying both her bearings and her colleague's absence. Oh, and to avoid letting her rage boil over at the fact that the stumpy Showboat of a battleship got a free afternoon by choosing scissors.

"So it will be just you and me then, Io-"

" _Irene_ ," Iowa hissed.

"What?" the ancient blonde tilted her head in confusion. "But your name is-" she was shushed by an angry index finger to the lips.

"If _anyone_ around here gets wind of who we both really are," the battleship's voice died down to an angry conspiratorial whisper, "you can say goodbye to _any_ chance we make it to the movie theater in time. Until we can get back to Annapolis, you will call me Irene."

"Then what is my name?"

"Ollie."

"Ollie? Isn't that a male name?"

"Well it's yours now."

"Trying to be mysterious then? I thought that was Jerse-, ah, _Jennifer_ 's, job. Very well, Irene, I shall entertain your demands."

A loud squealing sound of metal-on-metal echoed throughout the station as a train rolled to a stop at the station.

"The Washington Metro is actually on time today," Ollie observed without skipping a beat, glancing at Iowa expectantly.

"It's also jammed with so many people for a moment I thought I was in Tokyo," Iowa returned dryly, looking on distastefully at the rush of commuters dashing into and out of the passenger cars. "Why is it that the only time WMATA gets it act together that the trains turn into moving sardine cans?"

"When there is a will, there's a way. Come on Irene, I'm pretty sure we'll find a seat somewhere."

Maybe it was her rotten mood and oversized stature, but Iowa swore that the small blonde somehow wove through the train's tired and irritated passengers like a ghost. There was one point where Ollie was on a collision course with a disgruntled old man harumphing through a newspaper and the train's door, yet somehow the cruiser swept through the clearance without even a stir.

Come to think of it, Ollie's stature didn't make much sense. The Iowa-class battleships were among the skinnier (if not the skinniest) ship girls in the navy, a fact that Iowa herself was well aware of thanks to her younger sister New Jersey's latest forays into writing popular fiction. "Heiress to Hippolyta", "Daughters of the Amazons" , and "Goddesses born by the waves and so magnificently sculpted that even Aphrodite herself would turn green with envy" were among the tamest lurid descriptions of their extremely unique profiles. Of course, such details had some grounding in reality, despite what critics had to say. In spite of their incredible size they had to be able to pass through the Panama Canal, which consequently gave the four sisters an incredibly high length-to-beam ratio.

However, if Iowa was a big stick, then Ollie was a matchstick. While Ollie was not scrawny, her figure was relatively shapeless. Even as her toga...tapestry...whatever that was, clung close to the outline of her body, it only reinforced the impression that she was heavenly, not alluring.

Iowa interrupted her musings as she came across the smaller blonde curled up upon a surprisingly vacant bench, the ship girl's head bobbing to the beat of some rhythm pleasing her bridge's officers.

Of course, neither she nor her fairies had the decency to communicate with the fast battleship that an empty spot had been found until the latter was almost upon them.

"What are you listening to?" Iowa asked, hoping to somehow reduce her infuriating image of the golden-haired girl.

"Electroswing," she flashed the music player's screen before the battleship's face. "It's quite the groovy, ear-catching beat." That caused Iowa to groan again.

" The last time I heard a person use the word 'groovy,' the Soviets were still around. Your slang is decades out of date."

"You know," Ollie's passive smile dipped down dangerously for a moment, causing Iowa to wonder if she would actually take off her blindfold in displeasure, "When did you become such a debbie downer? It used to be easy keeping track of you four: you were the frank, upbeat, adventurous one, New Jersey was the lost, lovesick noble knight, Mo was the stern disciplinarian, and Wisky was, well Wisky. Now you have Jersey's chronic grouchiness and Mo's likeness except without the evil eye and fang."

"Normally I'd be less irascible," Iowa sighed apologetically, "but you're such an eccentric and confusing personality."

"Funny you say that," The warm, line-like smile returned. "New Jersey said the same thing upon our first meeting."

There was a brief pause as the battleship processed that statement. She was never quite certain how or why her younger sister befriended the cruiser, but Iowa knew that New Jersey became quite attached to small blonde. "It started with Admirals and ended with _Star Wars_ ," is all she understood about their initial encounter.

Oh, and the whole reason why her afternoon was booked, as the battleship's attention was drawn to a certain packet in her jeans..

"Tickets to see the film _Rogue One: A Star Wars Story_. Valid until January 16, 2017," Iowa read aloud from the crisp envelope, forwarded from New Jersey, that had made its fateful entrance at Norfolk Naval Base several weeks ago. Personally, as a die-hard Trekkie she did not completely understand the following Star Wars had, but she was not about to be burned at stake by Taffy 3 and at least two of her sisters. "How exactly did you get these again?"

"A few weeks before the first showing back in December, the Admiralty hosted a raffle for thirty of them. It was a pretty unorthodox gesture, but since Jersey and I liked the franchise your sister said 'Fuck it, we'll give it a shot for two.' Apparently somehow we actually won _four_ , but your sister was reassigned to the Pacific, where she promptly watched it with the rest of Taffy 3 the moment it came out at Yokosuka. Anyway, she held onto them in case we had an opportunity to watch it together before the tickets expired, but seeing as New Jersey's still steaming off the West Coast that obviously fell through."

"I'll be blunt with you: why didn't you try using all four of them on yourself?"

"If you read the letter in the envelope," Ollie gingerly touched the packet, "the agreed terms and conditions are 'one unique winner per ticket.' As likely as I am to watch this film repeatedly I cannot."

"So you tried corralling someone who's already seen it, someone who probably does gutsier things on a daily basis than the entire _Star Wars_ cast did in 6-"

"-7, going to be at least 9 canon ones-"

"-episodes, and someone who has little interest in the franchise to watch it with you?"

"The more the merrier. I had hoped we might get a laugh if it ends up being outright awful."

"What do you even like about the series anyway?"

"Do you really want to know?" Ollie flashed Iowa her best you-may-or-may-not-die-if-I-tell-you smile. Given that this was the same breed of smile Enterprise supposedly gave New Jersey when the former's adopted father was assigned to the heads-over-keels-in-love latter, this had to be juicy.

"The canonical films in the franchise may be plagued with enemy-of-the-week style villains, but even the silliest of them all are memorable, despite the fact that they always fail to crrrush the heroes," the cruiser rolled her r's dramatically. "Sometimes I see myself in Wilhuff Tarkin. A very cunning man, if not a proud one."

All the gears and electronics whirring inside Iowa's head came to a screeching halt as she desperately reviewed memo after memo of New Jersey's angry rants about each and every _Star Wars_ villain. Was he the bumbling fool that people suspected was in fact a Jedi-er Sith, in disguise, or that weird bug-looking creature-robot-thing that thought it was a good idea to solo duel someone who had infiltrated his base? No, none of those characters seemed like an appropriate fit for the Germanic-sounding name of Wilhuff. That honor would have to go to someone more human, like…

"You did _not_ just say you admire a man who literally sent an earth-like planet populated by millions if not billions of people to their doom," Iowa barely held back the urge to smack the cruiser in the forehead.

"Can't go wrong with Sir Peter Cushing," the smile grew a little weaker, then much to the battleship's horror, a little dreamier. "You should have seen some of his early appearances in the Fifties where he was pitted against Sir Christopher Lee. Quite the handsome brilliant actor. Often snuck into the theaters to get a nice good look at him on screen."

"Actors and characters are not the same thing! If you like Tarkin, don't bring up his alternate-universe-doppelgangers' antics! And I'm pretty sure my sister will have your head for liking a mass murderer!"

"In my defense, I believe the greatest thing to do to Tarkin would not be to marry him, but to bring him to justice in a battle of wits. Can't imagine how the Resistance felt getting even for all of their losses at his hands."

"You know the Navy gave you an opportunity to do just that, but you turned them down," Iowa rebutted disapprovingly. "Many abyssal commanders are more merciless than Genghis Khan himself, and as cunning as a fox to boot. Yet for some reason you find enjoyment being strapped to a monotonous desk job rather than blowing the Tarkins of the sea to bits."

"Not quite," Ollie retorted with ever-so-annoying telltale smirk of hers. "Make of it what you will, but I've often been invited to serve on juries for court martials in these waters. In fact, I was just sitting on one such panel here in D.C. earlier this afternoon, which is why I also asked you to meet me up here for movies rather than at your posting in Norfolk. Anyway, back to the value of my present duties...I'd rather be a goddess than a warrior."

"So you say," Iowa cracked into a genuine smile. "I understand now why my sister and you got along. You have a very different outlook than most of us ship girls. My offer still stands though, Olympia," getting up as the squealing of brakes signalled their imminent arrival at their destination. "If you ever want to fight...you know what you must do."

* * *

"So you're saying that she's returned?"

"Can't say for certain," her superior, Admiral Kastor Preble, corrected as he took another generous helping of jelly beans from the jar atop his desk. "The Japanese Diet and JMSDF are fairly upbeat considering that their anti-abyssal capabilities were shot for good measure, but they're holding their cards tightly to their chest. I'm pretty sure they'll spill the beans soon since though, and I have a gut feeling I'm right. Only a battleship of such renown and appetite could please politicians and resource-strapped naval officers simultaneously. Anyway, I thought you'd like to be the first to know since you two are about the same age."

"We were born a century apart, Admiral," Olympia smirked. "I believe that statement was uncalled for."

"You were laid down in 1891, and her in 1899," Preble rolled his eyes. "Don't cheat by using your commissioning dates."

The furious ringing of a telephone rudely interrupted their friendly banter.

"This better not be who I think it is," the four-star admiral groused. "If I have to hear about that Petty Officer's trial one more time…"

 _Click._

"Admiral Kastor Preble speaking. Yes? She's here, and before you ask no I'm not taking her off the jury; I put her on that panel for a reason. Oh, you weren't asking about-nevermind. What? _What?_ How the hell-? And no one else is? Right. I'll send her right away." He hurriedly returned the phone to its place and cast his colleague a worried look.

"You're needed in Annapolis immediately. Apparently a ship girl patrol encountered a group of abyssals off Bloodsworth Island and despite an intense firefight the fiends refuse to yield. The girls there are low on everything, so if they don't receive supplies soon they'll have to retreat, which will be a terrible mess. Considering how much crap we've dumped onto that Island, I don't think even the entire fleet at Norfolk could take those demons out if they entrench themselves on it. You're currently the only warship in these parts threatening enough to adequately protect our auxiliary ship girls from Annapolis to that contaminated hunk of land should some abyssals break through and come across them."

"Understood," the Hellenic-dressed cruiser nodded as she headed out the door.

"Olympia," Preble called out behind her, "stay safe. You're a rare sort, so don't do anything rash while you're out of your element."

"Out of my element?" the protected cruiser chuckled to herself as she tightened the blindfold about her eyes. "I'm right at home."

* * *

"Excuse me miss, but who are you?" A young girl with mouse-brown hair, clearly a cargo ship of some sort, inquired timidly as the saint-like blonde approached her and several other similar-aged ship-girls. Despite her incredibly youth-like appearance, she stood a few good inches above the cruiser.

"I'm a cruiser," Olympia said simply with her signature small smile. "I'm here to escort you to the patrol battling the enemy at Bloodsworth Island so that you can provide underway replenishment."

"A cruiser?" another ship girl drawled in greeting as she slid up to the cloak-clad warship. "Cooolll. I don't think I've ever seen a cruiser like you before. Looking quite dandy! How can you see with that blindfold thingy though?"

"You learn to get used to it."

"Lady, forgive me for being rude, but I've been through a lot," a more grizzled looking youth interrupted curtly. "I've seen shit in many unwanted places, and I've seen it in hellholes where I didn't even think you _could_ shit. Can I trust you to not make me discover new sources of fecal production?"

"No worries." Olympia produced her rigging from beneath her white robe-like outfit in response. "I have just the right tools for the job. Follow me, and everything will be just fine."

"I'm glad," the grizzly girl grunted. "Name's Chicopee by the way. The mousey one is the Botetourt and that's stupid surfer."

" _Stupid surfer_? Hey! I have a name; it's Ramapo."

"Which means you hump waves for a living until the sea police have to arrive. Who was the one who had to dragged out from a rogue wave by the ears again? That's right, you. Let your historical record stand, okay?"

"Tally Ho, chaps!" Before Ramapo could craft a witty retort a new voice entered the fray. "I say, aren't we having a jolly nice chinwag here, wot?"

"Well well well," Chicopee snickered as she turned her gaze onto the pompous newcomer. "If we don't have a jolly old Brit sticking her nose in these parts."

"I'm actually on leave, y'know," the apparently-English ship girl tutted scoldingly. "I have orders graced by the hands of Hood and Warspite themselves. Apparently the American temperament will be of great import to my improved sanity."

"Hard to believe that," Olympia smiled, willing to entertain their exaggeratedly "English" guest. "Isn't the United Kingdom home of the 'stiff upper lip' and whatnot?"

"You would think," the girl smirked, looking down to polish her smart blue tunic, "but they actually caused me to lose my cool, quite literally. Used me to blow the Jerries into bloody smithereens, they did," making a dramatic exploding sound in the cruiser's general direction.

That's when the two simultaneously recognized the other, the former by registering the British girl's intonation and the latter by staring into Olympia's concealed face.

"Buchanan?"

"Well, damn my eyes if it isn't Olympia," the Wickes-class destroyer whispered in awe, unconsciously slipping back into her normal American accent in the process. "Last time I saw you, you got your 8-inchers replaced with those oversized-destroyer-caliber weapons and was making headlines with your 'Unknown Soldier' mission. Glad to see you on the front lines though." She gave a crisp salute. "HMS Campbeltown, formerly the Wickes-class destroyer USS Buchanan, at your service. How can I help?"

"We're in a bit of a pinch right now and need to sortie out."

"A pinch? What sort of pinch? A pinch as in it's-St. Patrick's-Day-and-I'm-not-wearing-green sort of pinch or a we-need-to-take-over-an-island-with-our-own-two-hands kind of deal?"

"More of the latter."

Campbeltown fished about in her pocket and donned a thick bearskin-coated mitre. "Count me in."

"Didn't you say you're on leave just now to avoid this kind of crap?" Chicopee snapped.

"I'm serving with Dewey's old girl," the World War I vintage destroyer smirked affectionately, "I'd storm Antarctica and wrestle with Polar Bears for Olympia."

"If that's the case," Botetourt chimed in timidly, "can we head out now? Who knows how much longer the patrol can hold out."

"Yo, hold on," Ramapo held up a hand in warning, "I think I see someone coming. Looks like a sister of sorts, Botetourt."

" _Another_ ship girl?" Chicopee groaned. "Why can't we just leave right-OOF!" The oiler's rude remarks were interrupted as she was promptly bowled over by the newcomer.

"Oh boy was that the adrenaline rush," the new ship girl panted, pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow. "Sorry about that little mishap. I just got back earlier this morning and the Admiralty directed me to you lot. I was worried I was going to miss you all!"

"Well, you didn't," Chicopee muttered from her squished position.

"I'm glad!" the new ship girl continued as if Chicopee hadn't spoken at all. "I'm an ammunition ship, so if you all had set off without me the girls we're relieving wouldn't have received much-needed shells, and that would never do!"

"What's your name?" Olympia asked.

"It's John, ah, hm, give me a moment here, I know this! John Paul? No, that doesn't sound right. Argh, how come I don't remember?!"

"Post-summoning amnesia," Campbeltown offered. "It happened to me too when I first returned."

"But I literally just said it today! Curse you, brains! Ah well, all you need to know is that my name-whatever it is-caused the seniormost officers at Annapolis to turn as white as bedsheets and immediately assign me to Norfolk. I suppose it was good timing, considering I wasn't sure if I wanted to serve in the Pacific or the Atlantic," she scratched her cheeks thoughtfully. "Maybe I should have requested the Caribbean. Seems nice there. Anyway," the ammunition ship turned cheerfully to Campbeltown and Olympia. "So what exactly are we doing again?"

"Delivering supplies to a group of ship girls fighting near Bloodsworth Island."

"Fighting? Fighting what? Are there airplanes involved?" The gung ho newcomer narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Shouldn't be," Olympia offered.

"Good. I _hate_ airplanes. Did I mention that?"

"You girls have everything?" Botetourt called out, ignoring the ammunition ship's complaint. "Personally I'm carrying every single ice cream flavor you can possibly think of, plus some random sweets to appease Wichita's sweet tooth."

"Glass grenades, check. Congreve rockets, check. Panjadrum-"

"Four hundred 16" shells, six hundred 5" shells…."

"Chicopee and I are oilers. We both haul more fuel than a squadron can hope to drink."

"In that case," Ramapo assumed a fighting stance, "let's rumble!"

* * *

When it came to war, be it through feats of arms or by engineering, the United States had a reputation for planning. This was the country who developed Scott's Great Snake, as well as the architect of war plans to combat Britain and Japan (and even both, should that unholy alliance somehow occur) during peacetime. It was also the same nation that had battleships on the drawing board to counter potential battleships that could counter battleships that were just being approved for construction, as well as advocating for systemic redundancy in taking people to space. If by some horrible blunder something foiled the initial plans, then command could safely fall back to an alternative strategem. It was only by exhausting this endless supply of alternatives that one could call a setback a failure.

By this definition, the present brawl between Iowa and her team of ship girls against an abyssal expeditionary force was a fuck-up of epic proportions.

"They're coming back around to execute a torpedo run!" McDougal warned the two battleships as she tried but failed to kick up an abyssal submarine from the depths of Chesapeake Bay with a well-placed depth charge.

"North Carolina…" Iowa warned as she distracted herself from her own duel with the sinister incarnation of a Baltimore-class cruiser.

"I see it!"

"It's not an _it,_ it's a _them_ ," the fast battleship growled as she dodged an eight-inch super-heavy AP shell lobbed in her general direction.

" _Them?!_ "

"At least six," Casteine reported meekly by radio.

"Dammit Casteine," Iowa growled, preparing to close the distance with the abyssal cruiser as the battleship's turrets suddenly decided to play Dance-Dance Revolution with Iowa's accuracy. "When you say you spotted a submarine on patrol, we expect to see _a_ submarine. Keyword: submarine, _not_ submarines. Also note: submarines are plural, but are not highly descriptive. If you change your report from 'a submarine' to 'submarines,' you should note that you see a 'wolfpack of submarines the size of Genghis Khan's army approaching' if that there are actually that many submarines."

"Hey! Iowa!" A destroyer shouted as she desperately tried to flag the towering blonde's attention, her form frantically flying about the battlefield as if she was atop a jet ski. "I caught one!" She pointed at the flailing abyssal submarine beneath her, who was howling in pain at the weapons lodged deep within both of her eye sockets.

"Is that a _dirk_ I spot?"

"Yeah!" The submarine screamed again as Borie pulled it out of her skull to give the dagger an inspection. "It was forged in Scotland too! Not sure how it compares to my Indonesian-"

"Can you two please shut up and kill it before I get blindly torpedoed again?" North Carolina interrupted curtly. Normally the battleship was extremely composed in the heat of battle thanks to her historical tendency to be in the thick of action, but submarines always reminded her of that fateful encounter involving Wasp, O'Brien, and a perverted submersible.

"Oh, right!" The Clemson threw a hasty salute in acknowledgement. "All yours, Iowa!"

"Good job, Borie," the battleship complimented her, heaving Turret A in the Clemson's direction. "Stand clear!" she warned as three 16" shells howled as they spun towards the hapless submarine. The first and second shells whizzed harmlessly past the abyssal's face, but the third tore strait into her forward bulkheads before exploding right above the turbines. It was lights out for that abyssal.

Unfortunately, the abyssal cruiser noticed that her foe was momentarily distracted and seized her chance. While 8" shells may not necessarily be battleship-sized, a well-placed American-made AP shell could make for a painful learning experience, even for an armored castle like Iowa.

"Aw, shit," Iowa growled as she felt two of them impact violently with a dual purpose 5" mount on her port side. The first clanged loudly beneath the mount's ring and momentarily incapacitated the fairies within, while the second tore through the mount's thin side armor, raining shrapnel upon its inhabitants before (thankfully) coming to rest upon the now-disabled gun. By chance the shell's cap had not armed itself, thus sparing the several-dozen fairy-crew from a grisly fate.

"As my sister would say, 'Yeah, fuck you too.'"

At the Baltimore's treacherous volley the battleship replied with her own broadside, which slammed into the abyssal hard and true. One of them landed squarely inside the engine room, causing the demon to cough up black bile. Another wreaked havoc on the cruiser's rangefinders and fire control systems, robbing her of her accuracy. Finally, two well-placed 16" shells planted themselves inside the barbettes of her forwardmost turret, setting off the powder hoist that was in the process of transporting a shell and blowing the bow clean off. Iowa considered the reports of the remaining shells and mounts secondary; the false Baltimore was now desperately struggling to operate her pumps to stay afloat. The act of keeping herself level, let alone operating her guns to attack Iowa, were out of question.

"Iowa," North Carolina steamed up worriedly to her larger counterpart. "You alright?"

"The outcome was never in question," the fast battleship replied, watching as the abyssal at last accepted her fate and keeled over, "That's one heavy cruiser and abyssal submarine number 261962 taken care of. Only three-thousand more of those wolves to go before the Bay's cleared again."

"Actually," Blue (the Bagley-class destroyer) reported with a pleased smile, "after Borie, Castine, the Porter sisters, and I conducted a sweep of Bloodsworth Island, it seems that the remaining submarines have fled. Once we take care of the six cruisers that supported the wolfpack, Chesapeake Bay will be free again."

"Wait, hold on," Wichita interrupted, a nervous look on her face. "Did you just say there were _six_ cruisers?"

"There were two false Baltimores, a ghost Brooklyn, and some armored and protected cruisers, yes," Blue repeated once more. "Why?"

"I got the Brooklyn," Wichita reported.

"And both of us got a Baltimore each," North Carolina added, the worry spreading across her face like wildfire. "But if you got one and we got two, then that means-"

 _SPLOSH._ A tall geyser of water washed over the quartet unexpectedly.

"Not looking good," Borie radioed in worriedly. "We got German battleships and torpedo boats coming in. Pre-dreads by the look of it, but still a tough nut to crack. Hope you have enough ammunition because this is going to be a _long_ day."

"Damn it, we'll worry about the three cruisers later," Iowa hissed. "Showboat, how are you looking on ammunition?"

"Got plenty of 16" friends but I'm a bit low on 5" shells. How about you?"

"The same. Wichita, Blue, Borie, focus on the torpedo boats if you can. The Porter sisters, look out for those submarines in case they decide to come back. Feel free to make torpedo runs on those dreadnoughts if you can, but don't forget you can't afford to miss!"

* * *

"What are you looking at?" Chicopee grumbled as Ramapo stopped to gaze at a blackish-grey haze on the horizon.

"There's something coming," Campbeltown warned as she strained her to eyes to get a better glimpse of the inbound convoy.

"Maybe it's the patrol?" Botetourt chimed in uncertainly.

"Can't be," Olympia shook her head, "otherwise they would have communicated with us about it by now."

"Then that can mean only one thing." Campbeltown reached into her tunic's pocket and grasped a glassy grenade. The auxiliary ship girls likewise fumbled about for their rudimentary weapons.

"Wait."

Olympia furtively motioned with her left hand for them to stop.

"They don't see us yet. It looks like these ones slipped away from the fight."

"So?" Chicopee growled. "That gives us even more reasons to get ready now, before they run us down like frightened children."

"If they're trying to sneak up the inlet, they'll probably expect that the rest of the Bay to be undefended. Any ship girls that could fight would have been sent to Bloodsworth Island to fight at once."

"Which means they won't expect us coming!" Campbeltown grinned like a maniac. "Oh Olympia, that's such a dastardly idea, pretending to be innocent cargo ships and then suddenly," the destroyer wiggled her fingers, "surprise," she said said in an ominous voice.

"But will it work?" Botetourt worried.

"It will," Olympia replied.

"It _must_ ," Chicopee insisted.

"Uh, guys?" Ramapo interjected once more. "Hate to be the habitual bringer of bad news, but I'm pretty sure the leader of that gang," subtly pointing with her finger at the lead ship, "is armed to the teeth."

The protected cruiser whipped out her glass for confirmation.

"So it is," she said simply. "Three cruisers and four torpedo boats are headed our way."

" _Seven_ warships? Oh gee thanks Olympia, I really wanted to smell my shit on a sunny afternoon like this one."

"We're horribly outgunned," Botetourt whimpered.

"Outgunned, but not outmatched," Olympia corrected, her composure remaining completely unfazed by the recent turn of events. "Buchanan, do you still have your copy of _Jane's_ from the Great War?"

"It's growing dust somewhere in a corner of my captain's cabin, but I can whip it out for you," Campeltown offered, producing a moldy yellowed book that hadn't been opened in...who knew how long.

The blonde cruiser shut off steam and slowed to a crawl, repeatedly glancing at the vague silhouettes of the approaching abyssals and comparing their distinguishing features to certain equipment from their metal hulls.

"We're facing one aviso, one light cruiser, and one armored/protected cruiser. The first two are of German origin, while the latter is an ambiguous class constructed in the United States. She's my successor, to be exact."

"So we're both outmatched _and_ outgunned. Glad to know."

"Not quite," Olympia smiled, her facing glowing so brightly that her eyes were nearly visible beneath her blindfold. "With the torpedo boats considered they have us outnumbered, but we actually have them outmatched and, depending upon your interpretation, outgunned. It will be a close fight."

" _Close my ass_ ," Chicopee snarled, but she mellowed out somewhat.

" _Quiet! They're coming!_ " Botetourt hissed shrilly.

* * *

Olympia had just finished putting the finishing touches on concealing her torpedo tubes and Gatling Guns when a scratchy voice blared out like an ominous foghorn towards the convoy.

[This is the cruiser Gazelle. The combined firepower of my two confederates and myself, to say nothing of our agile torpedo boats, eclipse anything you merchantmen can hope bring to bear. If you wish to live, you will surrender your wares now.]

"Oh?" Campbeltown cried out in a pretend stammer (which the cruiser nearly mistook for genuine fear-whatever the British did to her they certainly gave her guts to pull off an impromptu act like this), "h-h-how will we know that you won't kill us afterwards?"

[My friends and I are simple robbers. We want wares, not blood.]

"I-i-is-is that so?" the destroyer whimpered, continuing to pretend to mull over the decision. "O-o-okay."

"I'm afraid that you will have to get close however if you want to receive my goods," Olympia objected. "They're extremely delicate, and won't last long in the pitch and roll of the sea."

[What exactly are you carrying?]

"China. The Smithsonian wanted to get its hands on some vintage Ming relics, so they put me in charge of receiving them."

The three abyssal cruisers looked at each other and smirked.

[Jackpot!]

[Oh, imagine how much we can make if we sell with to those raiders Knight used to speak of!]

[If they truly are ancient Chinese artifacts they'll want a huge commission for marketing them, but oh man, we'll live like kings! You there,] the German aviso pointed at Olympia in accented English, [stay where you are. We'll pick yours up first, and then the others.]

Campbeltown and Olympia shared knowing looks, though the protected cruiser couldn't help but feel some alarm at the destroyer's disguise. Where had her torpedo tubes gone? While they were no longer strapped visibly to her legs, there was no sign of the deadly submersible projectiles anywhere about the destroyer's body. Losing that close-quarters gambit would put them at a disadvantage for the surprise brawl to come, especially seeing that the abyssals were all eagerly closing in with Olympia.

No matter. Never tell her the odds, for fate was not decided by numbers alone...

* * *

 _Naked!_

 _Her, the flagship of the Asiatic Squadron, forced to fight as well-dressed as some primitive jungle savage!_

 _Oh, the horror!_

" _We've scraped off all the paint, Captain," a sailor reported as he flexed his sore arm. "Olympia should be ship-shape and battle-ready. The Spaniards will be hard pressed to set her alight by a lucky spark to her paintjob."_

" _Good," the officer growled._

 _The blonde ship spirit was more than willing to voice her own objections, but seeing as they had never_ _seen_ _her before...she'd rather not make the wrong first impression upon them._

 _Olympia scurried about the deck in search of something suitable to wear. A worn sail, an unused tarp...she'd take anything at the moment...ah, there we go! She grabbed a bolt of cloth and hastily tied a dress about herself; it felt odd, really, taking a piece of herself to cover herself._

 _Did that even make any sense?_

 _Her thoughts were interrupted momentarily as the cruiser barely avoided colliding head-on with none other than the admiral himself, who was deeply engrossed in some documents the commander of a revenue cutter had given him._

" _So let me get this straight," Dewey grunted aimlessly as he leafed through the report's pages. "The Spanish have seven cruisers and five gunboats, in addition to a wide variety of coastal batteries primed and ready to send us to oblivion at a moment's notice."_

 _Her heart sank._

" _But numbers do not decide everything," her captain objected. "We decide our fate and our fates alone, and at our disposal are four spanking new cruisers. The enemy may have a lot of ships, I'll give you that, but our gunners are eager and ready to prove themselves."_

" _So you believe that this will be an engagement of morale, Captain?" Dewey gazed at the man intently._

" _It would seem so, yes."_

" _Funny you say that," Dewey chuckled. "The Consul in Manila said the exact same thing." He shared his findings with the other officer. "Madrid has forsaken Manila as a lost cause," the admiral read aloud. "Admiral Montojo is trying to put up a valiant defense, but everyone knows that defeat is inevitable: many sailors are green with inexperience, and munitions supplies are low."_

" _If that's the case then-"_

 _There was an ominous rumbling sound, like rolling thunder, in the distance, followed shortly thereafter by two sharp bursts of bubbles and mist around them. Some sailors yelped and groped about in the darkness in an attempt to find the source of their wet discomfort._

" _I believe that was a mine just now," a lieutenant reported distastefully._

" _A mine set at the wrong depth," Dewey corrected. "They overestimated our draught."_

" _Sir, the other three cruisers have fallen out of formation," another officer informed them. "We've tried signalling them, but it seems we're on our own for now. Your orders, sir?"_

" _Inform the engine room to engage to full speed ahead. The Spanish clearly know we are approaching at the break of daylight, but we also know that they cannot effectively engage us. That leaves us with one recourse: lead, and the others will follow."_

* * *

Olympia smiled softly as the abyssal light cruiser staggered over to her, shaking her head in slight amusement as the demon studied her somewhat leeringly.

The enemy had wanted a big catch, and they got one.

But oh, had they _so_ underestimated the power of their prey.

The abyssal flashed her 10.5 cm guns in an attempt to impress the protected cruiser, completely oblivious to the fact that her target sported cannons of twice the caliber.

 _Closer….that's right...come closer..._

* * *

" _Good heavens, was that meant for us?" her captain asked quizzingly as a hailstorm of projectiles splashed harmlessly miles behind them. "I have never seen such bad accuracy in my life."_

" _Let us not tempt fate, Captain," Dewey smiled._

" _The range is 5,000 yards!" A gunnery officer shouted._

" _5,000 yards, is it?" The admiral turned to face the captain knowingly, and Olympia felt her pistons skip a beat._

" _Are the gunners ready, Gridley?"_

" _Like hell they are!"_

" _In that case…"_

* * *

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Olympia pulled the white blindfold away from her face, relishing in the golden glare of the sunlight. Her bright aquamarine eyes bore deep into the abyssal's icy blue, which glassed over in terror as it dawned upon her the true identity of her quarry.

"You may fire when ready, Gridley," Olympia smirked, casting aside her cloak to reveal her 8 and 5 inch batteries pointing at the demon expectantly.

The unfortunate malevolent incarnation of the SMS _Gazelle_ could only open her mouth in terror before the blonde's guns silenced her. Not that she could do much in retaliation, considering that her design rendered her guns useless from the constant pitch and roll of the sea. Olympia knew this, and also gambled that her torpedo tubes lay empty, unprepared for close quarters combat. It had been a risky estimate, but one that was now paying rich dividends.

"Gazelle's" aviso accomplice bolted over in blind rage, firing wildly with all of her guns at the victorious cruiser, which comically pecked and nibbled at Olympia's armor like paper cuts. Considering that her armor was as thin as 4 inches in some places...that was something.

"Do I seriously have bigger guns than _that thing?_ " Campbeltown wondered in awe, watching the aviso's high-explosive shells fragment harmlessly on deck. "Olympia, do you mind if I shoot at her first?"

The veteran of Manila Bay was about to reply when suddenly a pair of abyssals began charging their right flank, having taken advantage of Gazelle's' death to close into killing range. Their sights were set on the Victory ship and her ammunition counterpart.

"Gya!" Botetourt eeped, hastily bobbing and weaving away from the 8cm shells flying her way. Much to her dismay however, her partner had other ideas.

"Hey, miss, I finally remembered my own name!" she waved to Olympia. "It's-!"

"LOOK OUT!" the Victory ship screeched, pointing frantically behind her at the V25 class torpedo boat triumphantly preparing to unload her guns right into the ammunition-laden ship girl's underbelly. Time seemed to stop.

That's when the unthinkable happened.

 _BRANG!_

The abyssal torpedo boat's eyes rolled upward as she fell to the floor, her skull done in by...a sixteen inch shell?!

"My name is John Burke," the ammunition ship repeated herself, gently resecuring the 'borrowed' armor-piercing round within her hold, "and you will _not_ interrupt me when I am having an epiphany. Botetourt,"

"Hm?"

"I think I got lucky," Burke scrunched her eyes in annoyance at the misappropriated round, "almost set it off doing that just now."

"Ya think?" Chicopee deadpanned before another 8cm shell caused her to waltz out of line.

"Campbeltown, you Anglophilic fool," the oiler spat as she and Ramapo barely dodged the other torpedo boat's volley before delivering their own reply, "get these speedsters, or we're sunk!"

"But-"

"I got this," Olympia patted Campbeltown assuringly. "Go get them."

The Wickes destroyer looked like a child in a candy store. "Aye, cap'n!" Campbeltown saluted with big, hopeful eyes, and then swiftly beat a battle rhythm as she advanced menacingly towards the enemy, an intimidating grenadier's bearskin atop her head and grenade in hand.

"Huzzah!" The girl hurrahed as she hurled a bomb-like 4 inch high-explosive shell at one of the offending abyssals before promptly closing in to ramming speed.

Olympia could only shake her head as Buchanan wrestled with the torpedo boat fiercely, the latter effectively disarmed with all of its mounts either incapacitated or expended. While the destroyer had the advantage, it was nevertheless an incredibly gutsy if not downright impulsive maneuver. Why couldn't she shake the weird feeling that whatever the British put Buchanan through, it had to deal with spectacular explosions and subterfuge?

The loud reports of the aviso's shells going off quickly brought her back to reality. She was no dreamer, and the battlefield was no place to lose her head.

At the present moment there were two major threats to the convoy under her charge, the remaining Teutonic warship and the American turncoat. It was strange, come to think of it, that Olympia felt no hatred, remorse, or pity for the complicated cruiser that was St. Louis. They had been in service together and had rubbed elbows a few times in the age before the Washington Naval Treaty, but Dewey's flagship did not feel like she was striking down a friend.

No, this entire engagement was all a great game, a duel of fates between queens. Heaven had chosen to pit her against two self-centered villains, and now she would do her part in putting them back into their places.

In comparison to her initial combat against "Gazelle" this would be a far greater challenge. "St. Louis" and the German aviso were approaching her from either side, meaning that she would have to unevenly distribute her 8" broadsides.

"You ready, oh great Winged O?" Dewey smirked as he surveyed in the incoming cruisers atop her shoulder.

"Actually," Olympia's green-blue eyes flickered with mirth, "how about some breakfast first?"

That instantly got a rise from her crew, who banged and hollered furiously from their posts.

"Like hell we're eating breakfast now!" they roared.

"If you feel that way, then how we...share it?" she proposed, eyeing the aviso carefully. "Let's target the German first. They look like they need more sunshine in their life. I think Prinz Eugen cast a spell on Iowa too the last time she was over here…she's been most grouchy the past few weeks..."

"Share it? Of course we'll share it! We'll give those sauerkrauts some breakfast! Bacon, fried eggs, toast, hashbrowns, bagels…" each and every food item in Gridley's tirade was enunciated by the furious report of Gatling guns, 8 inch and 5 inch shells, and even some 1-pounder guns to boot. Although Olympia was no expert markswoman, the sheer volume of ordnance methodically wore the aviso down, silencing her 8cm and 5 cm batteries at first before forcing the abyssal to cough up sickly smoke and slow to a crawl, her boilers having burst from overexertion and a lucky shell athwartships.

That left only St. Louis, or the cursed shell that resembled her at least. On paper they were fairly even, if St. Louis did not have the advantage outright. Olympia had the larger-caliber guns, but St. Louis had many smaller, rapid-firing ones. While St. Louis was a formidable moving artillery platform, she lacked torpedo tubes, which the protected cruiser had six of.

The tipping point however would not be who had the heavier broadside or more torpedoes but experience. And "St. Louis," despite her participation in the Great War, was greener than a springtime forest.

Her inexperience was extremely telling in how she duelled the old cruiser. The abyssal gave too much lead and aimed too high, as if she was warring the sun and not Olympia. However, her gunnery did remind the blonde not to become overly confident in her capabilities: a well-placed 6" HE shell impacted violently Olympia's armor belt, which despite not penetrating it caused the affected to region to swell.

"Ah...the weaknesses of Harvey steel," Olympia duly noted, wiping away a smattering of blood that she had instinctively coughed up. It was an incredibly durable sort of armor, but lacked the flexibility of the Krupp variants; even the most minor of impacts could lead to spalling, effectively turning her steel plating into a shotgun against herself.

[I do not want to fight you,] St. Louis warned telepathically. [You earned the name as 'Queen of the Pacific' through a baptism by fire, and rightfully so.]

"You and your friends were singing a different tune an hour ago," she replied evenly. "What am I to believe?"

[I don't understand you,] the abyssal cruiser snapped angrily. [Many times the United States has entertained the idea of pulling you apart, yet you stand behind them like a dog. I wasn't the only one lined up for scrapping, you know.]

"It seems to be a trend, not understanding me that is," Olympia smirked.

[Dammit Olympia.] St. Louis's eyes whirled about like spinning tops. [What are you drunk on? Can't you see the truth? Even after all you've done for the United States Navy, Americans still ponder whether it's worthwhile shelling out money to keep your old hulk afloat? You're a soldier to be used and disposed of when it is no longer politically convenient to preserve you.]

"Me? A soldier?" she scoffed and undid her hair, letting her messy, bird-nest-like golden locks flow freely to her waist. "You clearly do not know who I am. I'm starting to believe you're just a mimic of the real girl after all."

At Olympia's comment the abyssal's eyes turned red and she released a venomous cloud of smoke through her nostrils.

[RAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH-]

 _THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP._

St. Louis's eyes bulged in horror as she found herself endlessly regurgitating a familiar black liquid, her Harvey armor belt failing to withstand the sharp blows of Olympia's 8" shells piercing it.

"Something important to remember, in case we ever meet again as enemies," her green eyes studied the dying abyssal serenely before she pulled her turrets away from the cruiser's middle to let loose a devastating torpedo strike. "Don't get emotional in a fight, it messes with your brain. Also, distance ignores all armor. I don't care how bad the Ordnance Board may think my 8"/35's are, if I'm close enough to dance with you, your four inches of belt armor is meaningless."

[Olympia...one day…] the abyssal struggled to gain her dying breath as her boilers and engines seemed to be clogged with fuel and grease. [One day...when they come for you...you'll understand why...why….I WANT TO KILL THEM ALL.] No sooner had those words left her lips than she gasped and fell to the floor, leaving nothing but a stinking hollow shell behind.

"But not yet, eh?" Olympia grinned, taking one last look at her defeated foe before walking away.

* * *

Never before had Iowa appreciated how annoying pre-dreadnoughts were. Sure, many were made with primitive armor compositions that made them woefully ill-prepared to take on the epitome of battleship design such as herself, but they possessed numerous quick-firing guns that seemed to endlessly pepper her in high-explosive and armor-piercing shells. Moreover, what they lacked in quality they made up for in quantity. A belt armor 16 inches thick could prove a tough nut to crack, even with the acknowledgement that Harvey armor was only a fraction as reliable as Krupp cemented armor.

But not impossible.

The towering blonde watched with satisfaction as the Brandenburg-class pre-dreadnought winced under her devastating volleys, the thickness either setting off Iowa's AP shells and tearing apart machinery upon impact, or producing tremendous spalling that flushed the abyssal red as she felt her very veins aflame.

"Just one more volley…" the fast battleship grinned as the demonic battleship struggled to train her remaining guns upon Iowa's prow. American industry had done its work; the technological superiority of Iowa's decades-newer shells meant that even the most criminal overpenetration disabled something within the ancient abyssal. In this case, all but a single 11" twin turret remained jammed hard to port, a position that Iowa had been at ten minutes earlier.

Now it was time to cast the finishing blow.

"FIRE!" she barked, and gazed victoriously at the former battleship's direction as her position was obscured with smoke and flame. When the blackish-grey mist cleared, the lifeless remains of the pre-dreadnought listing heavily to starboard greeted her.

That's when her radar went haywire, alerting her that there were _even more_ enemies on the way.

"Good lord, there's more of them!" North Carolina groaned, her damaged headset picking up the enemies' signatures at last.

"British pre-dreadnoughts this time. Stocked to the gunwales with small-caliber guns, with some fairly rapid-firing 12" ones to boot."

"I think we've gone beyond the point of this being a 'patrol' and are now reaching 'an abyssal princess's entire damn army,'" Iowa growled. "How the hell did they get so close, anyhow? Last I checked only U-boats were thumbing their noses like this."

"We can figure out the exact details later," Wichita insisted as she nursed her crippled rearmost turret, trying to work some damage control repair magic upon it. "Let's get down to business first."

"We're on our last rounds," the Porter sisters warned through the radio. "Spent a lot of 5" shells trying to take out some light cruisers."

"At least you still have all of your 5" mounts," Iowa grunted, looking at the singed stumps where a dozen batteries of the legendary dual-purpose naval guns had once stood. "I'm on my last batch of 16" rounds too. Hold on," her body suddenly went rigid as her radar began acting up again. "There's something behind us. Lots of somethings."

"Hearing something too through my hydrophones," Blue frowned.

" _Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules_

 _Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these"_

"The hell is this nonsense?" Casteine whispered frantically.

" _But of all the world's great heroes, there's not that can compare,_

 _With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers."_

"With crap like that, that can only mean one thing," North Carolina drew in her breath as the outlines of six figures arose on the horizon.

"AMMUNITION!" A boyishly-clad supply ship hollered as she reached into her pockets and began waving a fistful of 5" shells high into the air. "Come get youurrrr, ammunition!"

"Anyone hungry?" A mousey-brown presented a wagon full of ice cream before the famished fighters. "I've brought plenty to go around, so help yourself!"

"Yo, if anyone's thirsty 'Chickpea and I brought you some smokin' hot fresh oil, straight from the Canadian oil sands themselves!" Ramapo slurred as she readied hoses within the awaiting canisters. "I got a special from Prince David herself, you can't refuse it!"

"It's _Chicopee_ you idiot!" Ramapo's fellow oiler snarled, but her rants were drowned out by the din of ship girls eager to gorge themselves before the next onslaught.

"Ah, Hershey's kisses and M&M's," Wichita salivated uncontrollably, "you remembered."

"Mint-oreo-flavored ice cream?" Borie scoffed at Blue's selection. "How bland."

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't like _tortilla-chicken-flavored-democracy_."

"Showboat," Iowa's starry blue eyes glanced at her stumpier friend in alarm as the latter eagerly downed barrel after barrel of bunker oil like no tomorrow. "This is not a race to see how fast you can drink. Slow down."

"Mmf's thirsty," the brunette responded, not even pausing between slurps to communicate. "Fifitif's thirsty business."

Recognizing that raising any further objections were a lost cause and acknowledging her radar's report of the rapidly approaching enemy, the fast battleship elected to restock her magazines before she had to fisticuff her way to victory.

"HELLO!" the ammunition ship yelled in greeting, shading her eyes to take in Iowa's profile. "WHAT CAN I GET FOR YOU?!"

"You have any 16" shells?" Iowa asked after the ringing died down in her ears.

"YES!" John Burke casually dumped half of her entire stock onto the battleship's, er, superstructure.

"What about 5"-" The pile atop Iowa's chest grew heavier.

"ANYTHING ELSE?!"

"I'm good."

"ENJOY!" the ammunition ship waved, and promptly returned to counting out her remaining wares, which by the looks of it included dozens of Bliss-Leavitt torpedoes and hundreds of high explosive shells of various makes and sizes. How exactly that ship girl had gotten here in one piece was a miracle.

"Jolly good show, wot?" The obnoxious singer of "The British Grenadiers," a mitre-capped destroyer with the number "142" pinned to her chest, questioned in greeting. "Arrived in the nick of time we did, wot?"

"Campbeltown," Iowa sighed. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Her most majestic ship girl Warspite cordially recommended that I be stationed on this side of the pond to ah, 'learn how to use my head more,' if y'get my drift."

"So you escorted our support ships and saved the battle," the blonde mused. "I suppose I should express some gratitude for that."

"Oh," the pompous attitude vanished and was replaced with ( _was that a blush_?) a more modest smile. "It is not I that you should be thanking, but ah, her," Campbeltown amended, pointing at an unfamiliar princess-like ship girl.

"Hello Iowa," the ship girl smiled, her green eyes shining in amusement. "Looks like you needed my help after all."

"Do I know you?" Iowa stated frankly.

"Yes," that ever-so-annoying smile grew even bigger, "yes, you do."

"No, I am pretty sure we have never met."

North Carolina on the other hand (who had since finished her oiler crawl and had joined Iowa), was rapidly alternating between narrowing her eyes and blinking at their savior as if she had spotted an abomination.

"No way."

"Way," the girl grinned, flipping her unkempt golden hair behind her head, revealing a familiar gilded pendant in the process.

"What the hell," North Carolina mumbled. "What. The. Hell!" she screeched before casting the Big Stick a fearful look, nearly jumping into her arms in the process.

"Iowa...I think I drank too much," the Showboat whimpered fearfully.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because _that_ right there," pointing emphatically at the bane of Iowa's patience, "is Olympia."

"Ye~ep."

"What," said Iowa flatly.

"That's me."

" _What_." By now Iowa's face was mere inches away from the cruiser's own, blue staring intently into green.

"When the hell did you have eyes?"

"Oh, since I don't know..1891?"

"Lies."

Olympia simply smirked and slipped the blindfold back into face.

"Believe me now?"

Iowa and North Carolina exchanged hesitant looks.

"This is far too elaborate for an abyssal doppelganger to take Olympia's place," the latter began.

"Do my eyes really make me look that different?" the small blonde inquired, adjusting the cloth so that only one radiant orb remained covered.

"Yes," the two battleships chorused.

"Oh, you should have seen the abyssals' faces," Buchanan (for Campbeltown had given way to her old American persona) chortled. "One minute they were all like, 'I got you now!', but then Olympia whipped back her blindfold and said "you may fire when ready' and began kicking butt and taking names. It was the fight of the ages."

Iowa's response was to merely sigh and shake her head.

"How long exactly were you waiting to use Tarkin's signature command again?"

"What are you talking about?" Olympia smirked once more. " _I_ said it first in 1898. Why do you think the Spanish ran from me?"

"I hate to interrupt your extremely boring conversation about the 'Good Ol' Days,'" Chicopee grumbled, "but I believe that," cupping her ear to emphasize the incoming thunder, "are abyssals calling."

"Borie and I will try and delay them," Blue offered. "We'll set a smoke screen for you all to lumber through."

"Sounds like a plan," Olympia nodded in approval. "Buchanan, care to join the assault?"

"I'd love to!" The Wickes-class destroyer squeed in delight.

"Hold your horses," Iowa held up a halting hand before leveling her own irksome smirk at the protected cruiser. "Didn't you tell me a few days ago that you aren't a warrior? What's with the haste to charge into battle?"

"Because it's nice playing goddess," the saintly blonde smiled sweetly. "For now I am saving your sorry selves for the second time today. No matter how big or small of a contribution, you need my help right now, and you know it."

* * *

Some other notes:

Excerpts from Jersey's fiction are entirely made-up, though they're a reference to another well-known Kancolle fanfiction involving her.

Olympia's dress and blindfold: First thing that came to mind was the famous Greek settlement when I heard her name (though she's probably named in honor of the American city), and given that the U.S. had a revived interest in Classical architecture somewhat at the same time as Olympia was laid down I thought her semblence to the Greek goddesses of old fitting. Of course, having the nickname of "Queen of the Pacific" also lends credit to this image. The Americans were apparently surprisingly bad shots a Manila Bay though they decisively won the engagement despite this, thus the cruiser's ability to "see" effectively even when lacking a visual around her.

"You may fire when ready, Gridley": The famous order Dewey gave to Olympia's captain at the start of the Battle of Manila Bay. Needless to say, you can see how she could find _Star Wars_ and Tarkin a bit more...charming, then most. (We will not talk of Olympia's fanfictions...)

Breakfast: There was a moment during Manila Bay when the bridge received a jarbled report that suggested that they were out of ammunition and thus needed to withdraw. Not wanting to discourage the men Dewey and Gridley announced that they were "pulling back to eat breakfast," a seemingly plausible excuse given that action had been going on since 5 in the morning. Some authors note that the sailors mutinously replied with "to hell with breakfast," eager to remain in the fight. It was soon discovered that the report was actually saying that they had _plenty_ of ammunition, and thus Olympia returned to battle.

Being Naked: Olympia had her white paint job scraped off completely in preparation for the invasion of the Philippine. As in the Zuluverse paint=clothes...

Ramapo and "stupid surfer": Ramapo holds the record for either spotting or riding one of the tallest rogue waves in history, a wave that was apparently 112 feet tall.


	33. Dreams and Nightmares: The Situation

**A/N:** I finally wrote what I hope to be a satisfactory breakdown of the context of the abyssal war and a satisfactory premise for the rest of this arc! In the interest of not posting a giant block of text, I'll break it up and release it throughout this week (hurrah for going back to my original posting system as planned...)

A little disclaimer before you read this chapter: remember that the Zuluverse is entirely different from our own, diverging slightly starting 2010 and more noticeably in 2012. Naturally there will be some discussion of the different politics in this universe, but it's not intended to be a political or "nation X can't do anything so nation Y is here to save the day" sort of thing. If a statement like "Prime Minister _ of [insert nation here] was forced to resign" is made, don't assume that it's the Prime Minister of said nation in real life. In fact in older drafts I actually tried going into detail about the political events going on in the United States, Japan, etc. to emphasize this difference but took it out since 1) It was too detailed and ruined the flow of the story 2) It made no sense for military officers to be discussing politics, though some may show sympathies to certain positions.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this post! I hope I'll return to regularly posting now that I've gone over that impasse... Since it's been two months since I've last updated I'll create a little rundown on the concepts and characters I've introduced after this chapter.

* * *

"My finger is not food, you little git."

"Miiiiiiii," the little fairy hissed in annoyance, and proceeded to twirl about before angrily biting down at a comically oversized muffin.

Mikasa gracefully returned her teacup to its saucer and sighed. "Is there _any possibility_ that you could be more mature? We are in respectable company, mind you."

"Mi!"

"Oh, come on."

"Miiii!"

"Please?"

"Mi!" The small girl shook her head furiously, her eboshi flying about like a fan behind her ears.

"Didn't anyone tell my fairy self that there would be a naval review today, or at the very least try and calm her down?" the battleship mouthed to her seniormost officer.

"There was an attempt," Admiral Tōgō conceded. "I believe the score ending up being 25 to 0 however before Abo and Akiyama gave up."

Mikasa sighed again and began methodically massaging her forehead. Of all the times for her junior spiritual incarnation to act up, it had to be _now,_ at the prelude to an important meeting.

"My sincerest apologies, Admiral Goto, Admiral Stephens, and Lieutenant Tōgō."

"I was going to comment upon your familiar choice of dress, but it appears that you have more pressing concerns at the moment," Goto replied with a straight face, desperately fighting against the urge to laugh as a certain black-haired fairy began eating her way out of a hapless pastry.

"A rather _interesting_ predicament," Stephens amended with a soft smile, chuckling lightly as the battleship's fairy self abruptly made a noisy beeline to the teapot, knocking over dozens of miniature sailors trying to restrain her in the process. "It makes for, ah, a good distraction from the subject at hand," he added quietly, taking a sip of his morning coffee.

"The three of you still haven't explained _what exactly_ 'the subject' is," Mikasa objected, mystified at the unusually delicate manner the two admirals danced about their intentions.

Although it had only been a few days since she had first made introductions with the Shōwa-era kanmusu and Yokosuka's human personnel, Mikasa knew enough that the three officers before her were acting...odd. While Admiral Goto wasn't afraid to crack a joke, in situations as important as this one he was extremely direct. Likewise, the laid-back, conversational atmosphere that usually surrounded Vice-Admiral Stephens was painfully forced: Mikasa couldn't shake the feeling that he kept glancing at Jukeini whenever he was about to address the pre-dreadnought. As for Jukeini herself, even though there wasn't anything "off" about the lieutenant's emotions, the bob-cut officer's silent composure (which was only interrupted by the occasional rapping on Goto's desk) unnerved her.

"Well," Stephens began cautiously, sharing an uneasy glance with Jukeini, "what do you, ah, think of the world?"

"It is very round."

"What about the people that inhabit it?"

"Fascinating," Mikasa continued, pausing to take another sip of her tea.

"What about their nature and tendencies?"

"It's disappointing that they can't walk on water," she replied, trying but failing to get a laugh out the vice-admiral. For some reason Stephens's line of questioning seemed far more painful that it should be.

"Uh, what about, er-?"

"How do you feel about the United States, Mikasa?" Goto asked bluntly at last.

The battleship raised a confused eyebrow at that. Hadn't she already made it clear to him already that however conflicted she may be about how the Americans ended their argument with Japan, she trusted in their willingness to work with Japan?

"Your _present_ feelings, Mikasa," Goto corrected himself.

"Ah." At once she understood Stephens's hesitance.

"I am aware of the fact that the people of the United States and the Japanese engaged in a bloody and ultimately tragic conflict, sir," Mikasa bowed her head in acknowledgment of Stephens's unspoken question. "I am also aware that some spirits, both American and Japanese, have not taken the mutual future of our countries well," she paused, remembering Kaga's horror story of how Hōshō and an American standard named Pennsylvania nearly started a diplomatic incident upon their first meeting. "However, politics, as Admiral was fond of pointing out, has no place with my duty. Both countries are trying to put their past behind them and rise together as friends, and I will not cut open old wounds in the name of petty vengeance; it is neither chivalrous nor honorable. Besides, I remember that it was with the assistance of an American admirer that I was preserved; I would do well to return the favor. You can trust me to assist you in the name of your country and mine, sir."

"Even if it meant you would be assigned to the Japanese squadron supporting Russian activities in the Pacific?" Stephens cast her an amused look, momentarily reverting to his usual mirth at the sight of her aghast expression. There were slightly annoyed "desus" from the few English-speaking fairies who understood the implications of Stephens's suggestion.

"Although I would be puzzled as to why an American Admiral would be asking me about an assignment to a foreign fleet, if Admiral Goto and yourself deemed it necessary, I, I," Mikasa swallowed hard and looked down bitterly, "I would do it."

"Unfortunately for you, there is no need for you for such an assignment," Goto chimed in boredly. "The Russian Pacific fleet and their ship girls are holed in at Vladivostok, surrounded by thick sea ice and an even thicker swarm of abyssals. As the commander there adamantly insists that he has control of the situation, you'd be twiddling your thumbs doing coastal patrols with the rest of the relief squadron off Sadogashima, until the warmer months when the abyssals are likely to do battle over the port. No Mikasa, your experience is being put to far better use elsewhere."

"And in the opposite direction too," Stephens offered optimistically. "How does the Yellow Sea sound?"

 _Crack._

The ominous creaking sound of Mikasa's teacup shattering in her hands was the only noise punctuating the uneasy silence that overcame the table. The battleship's fairy crew, which had burst into festivities upon hearing that they were no longer to be rubbing elbows with their old enemies, looked worriedly at Stephens. Even Mikasa's fairy companion had stopped gorging herself to gaze at the human trio with wide eyes.

"With all due respect, Admiral Stephens, Admiral Goto, why am I, no, _we_ , going anywhere near that blasted sea again? Is the United States planning a surprise invasion of Korea?" By now the battleship's hands were visibly shaking. "Are we contesting some hunk of land near that forsaken peninsula that is the Liaodong?"

"No," Stephens replied quietly, hesitating slightly to silently ask Jukeini for guidance. "The Koreans, or at least the Republic of Korea, are among our allies in the Pacific."

"Then why am I needed _there_? I'm a battleship, the final argument of nations. I'm clearly not being sent there to have a picnic with the Koreans, as nice as that may sound."

"The fate of three nations lie there for three different reasons," Goto replied darkly. "I assume that you have not been following the papers at all, Mikasa?"

He sighed and passed her an aging copy of the _Asahi Shimbun_ at the shake of her head.

"This broke out at the same time the abyssals attacked Tokyo, but it took a turn for the worse over the past few days."

"KICKBACK SCANDAL THICKENS: MORE THAN 50 ROKN OFFICERS IMPLICATED"

"The story goes that shipbuilding companies bribed influential naval bureaucrats in the Korean government in exchange for generous contracts. In recent weeks, the corruption allegations run all the way up to their first ever fleet admiral, the wonsu Won Seol," Stephens commented. "Personally, I suspect this to be the product of political machinations rather than the officers' integrity. Won Seol made many powerful enemies over his eventful career the past few years, so it wouldn't surprise me if this was an attempt to oust him and his subordinates from power. However, that is besides the point and beyond my station," at this moment he rubbed his neck hesitantly, looking slightly flustered at his aside. "Regardless of whether the ROKN officers are guilty this is a major blow to our capabilities in the Yellow Sea and surrounding waters. The South Korean Navy has one of the most effective, if not _the_ most effective, conventional anti-abyssal forces in the entire Pacific Ocean. At a time when the world over was experiencing the full wrath of the abyssal hordes, Won Seol gave everyone hope by breaking through an abyssal armada with only a handful of ships and snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Losing these officers' experience, even momentarily for the sake of an investigation, leaves a gaping hole in the ROKN's core. Who can step up to the plate? The PLAN is playing whack-a-mole trying to clean up remnant abyssal positions in Northern China, and the ROCN can't play their hand too hard since Taiwan will suffer at the slightest slip-up."

"What about the North Koreans?" Mikasa inquired.

"The KPN?" Goto snorted. "They're a brown water navy, and no one's heard from them since they refused to work with us, China, or the United States."

"Which leads to our second concern," Goto's counterpart continued gloomily. "The DPRK is a dynastic dictatorship, of whom the most leader vowed foolishly to guide the country down its own path at the outbreak of the Abyssal War. Seeing as the country hasn't been overrun by the devilish fiends, there's a growing concern that he has somehow negotiated a treaty with the monsters out of spite or by the foolish illusion that he stands to gain from our own misfortunes. The ROK's military turmoil, combined with the political chaos in the aftermath of Tokyo, would be the prime time for the DPRK to 'test' the extent of American support. To this end I have been ordered to command the Seventh Fleet and sail to South Korea as a demonstration of our continued support in these troubling times."

"I understand now why you look so troubled, Vice-Admiral Stephens," the battleship offered sympathetically, a statement that only made the American look sadder.

"If only those were even half of my concerns," he laughed sadly.

"Stephens's career is on the line," the Japanese Admiral stated in unambiguous terms. "Many in Washington blame the limited-yet-humiliating damage dealt by the abyssals on Tokyo upon Stephens's incompetence. Mac has an incredibly conservative approach in conducting his operations you see, which means that while he has pretty much guaranteed the continued preservation of the Seventh Fleet he has no clear victories to show for it. Unfortunately, victories are exactly what the American public wants to read about and the politicians need at the moment. Like the Diet's official opinion, Mikasa, the popular opinion in the United States was that the abyssals were on the defensive. The last major terrestrial abyssal offensive was more than three years ago in the battle for Nanjing, which ended in a resounding victory for the PRC and in fact revitalized the Chinese Communist Party. Therefore, we grew a bit more...complacent, then we should have been, and were collectively rudely awakened from it."

"There's more to it than that, Goto, and you know it," the worried man sighed and looked Mikasa in the eye. "There's no President of the United States at the moment. After a disastrous election year in which the two popular frontrunners of both parties died unexpectedly, the remaining candidates proved so polarizing that the Electoral College ended up in a tie, with no one receiving the required 270 votes. Therefore, according to American law it fell upon Congress to elect the next president and vice-president, but they were likewise so partisan that the votes likewise ended up as a tie. They then came up with the time-proven solution of making a compromise: in exchange for strategic concessions, the delegates would agree to commit to a single candidate. One of these concessions was for the bipartisan approval of the Seventh Fleet conducting annual exercises with South Korea earlier than normal, supposedly to show due consideration to the defeated party's positions even when out of power. As mentioned earlier, these already high stakes were raised even higher by the ROKN's own problems, which mean that the expectations placed upon my command are no less than your very mission in May 1905. Preble gave me the ominous warning this morning: if I make the slightest mistake, my career is done for."

"Mikasa, although you may have not known him for long I am sure you can gauge the breadth of Stephens's experience," Goto interjected. "Losing him bodes just as poorly for us as losing the veterans of the ROKN. The JMSDF is already stretched out enough as it is, even without the current logistical crisis considered."

The pre-dreadnought shared glances with her fairy officers who nodded. "When do I make way for Korea, and where? I will guide the Seventh Fleet to safety."

"Not so fast," Goto called out sternly.

"You didn't think we'd send you out alone, did you?" Stephens smiled faintly in amusement. "How noble of you to agree so swiftly."

* * *

 _Some more notes:_

American Politics: I based it roughly on some cross of the 1968 political chaos and the Hayes-Tilden Standoff. Again, the "original" candidates and their successors mentioned don't have any comparable counterparts in our universe. In older drafts I went into the details about the election process, but deleted it to create the more relevant and story-orientated anecdote here.

Won Seol's name and his achievements: Won Seol and his victory Goto mentioned are a nod to the famous commander Yi Sun-Sin, who famously fended off a Japanese push on Seoul despite being outnumbered by more than ten to one. Rather reuse the Yi surname I chose to combine the name of **Won** Gyun (an officer infamous for leading to the Korean navy to defeat at Chilcheollyang) and Bae **Seol** (the officer responsible for leading the survivors of Chilcheollyang to safety and effectively granting Yi Sun-Sin the 13 ships he would need to win his most legendary battle).

The ROKN Scandal: This was not intended to create a negative portrayal of the ROKN. In line with nods to historical figures, this scandal is a reference to 1) Yi Sun-Sin's infamous imprisonment due to political maneuverings (and led to the Korean navy's annihilation at Chilcheollyang due to his successor's incompetence) and 2) the Siemens Scandal that rocked the IJN in the 1910's (prominent officers took kickbacks from prominent shipwrights in exchange for agreeing to the purchasing of ships such as Kongou herself).

Vladivostok and Ice: Vladivostok apparently is now an **ice-free** port (it used to be notoriously icey in the early 1900's from what I can gather), but this is only achievable with icebreakers. For reasons that remain unknown abyssals appear to have a dislike of the land, and thus the Russians have let the waterways freeze over and "dig in." The reasoning behind this is a strange one, and will be given later.


	34. Dreams and Nightmares: Surprises

**A/N:** So this chapter is far longer than I expected. Originally the remainder was going to be posted as a single chapter, but I checked the wordcount and it entered giant-wall-of-text levels. I'll try and be more prompt with the final fragment of this section. This continues the "infodump" begun in the previous fragment and also sets up the premise of the remainder of this arc (whose action will begin at the end of the next chapter). Personally I found this chapter a bit on the dry side, but it's important for worldbuilding.

Just a warning, because I hadn't planned for a posting break/pause I had to cut it off on an unintentional moment of suspense.

* * *

"I assume I will be working with Americans then?" The Vice-Admiral's concerns suddenly made sense. Perhaps she would get to meet this "Missouri," or even all four of the Iowa sisters, face-to-face.

"I am afraid not," came the wistful reply. "Present fears of a potential renewed abyssal attack on U.S. soil combined with around-the-clock convoy duties to the Pacific and Atlantic mean that the Navy currently has no ship girls to spare. Do not fret, Mikasa," he added reassuringly, "you will meet our girls in due time. No doubt some will want to compete with you as well…"

"The Seventh Fleet will be accompanied by a contingent of kanmusu on their journey to South Korea," Goto replied, handing Mikasa the fleet roster as he pulled out a map. "Due to our present resource situation (Mikasa noticed that his voice fluctuated slightly at the word 'situation') I have been forced to be...prudent about the candidates."

The pre-dreadnought begged to disagree as she fingered through Goto's "prudent" list.

KANMUSU TO ESCORT THE U.S. SEVENTH FLEET UNDER VICE-ADMIRAL MAC L. STEPHENS

CARRIERS:  
Katsuragi

BATTLESHIPS:  
Mikasa

CRUISERS:  
Tenryū  
Tatsuta

DESTROYERS:  
Akatsuki  
Ikazuchi  
Inazuma  
Hibiki  
Akebono  
Akizuki  
Hatsuzuki  
Teruzuki

"Sir, with all due respect, that's...nine, ten, eleven kanmusu for this assignment!"

"Twelve if you count yourself," Goto corrected with an amused raised eyebrow, "or are you not going?"

"Does the Navy have the resources to commit to this expedition?" Mikasa demanded, ignoring his playful jest.

"I believe Mac can correct me if I'm wrong, but the first batch of naval supplies head out from Hong Kong and Anchorage this week, so we're doing with what we currently have."

"But sir, if the Navy is so short on resources that us spirits are on human rations, then where are the supplies coming from? Unless-?"

Goto simply smiled, and suddenly it all made sense.

"But, but," Mikasa protested. "But who? And how?"

"Tell me, Mikasa, have you noticed any recent visitors with wavy brown hair and a wolfish grin, perhaps?"

"Only from a distance. Poor Akatsuki went catatonic and began babbling about torpedoes and their ranges at the slightest glimpse of her."

"What about the man usually accompanying her?"

"The officer that looks permanently terrified of anything and everything?"

"That is the man who saved the JMSDF from disaster," Stephens chuckled in earnest. "He's proved himself to be one of the finest logisticians in the JMSDF, if I say so myself."

"But...how?"

"Captain Yonehara Hasui is a paranoid and pessimistic man, and an incredibly talented administrator when placed under the patronage of someone he is familiar with," Goto explained, his voice taking on a less humorous tone. "He is a man who sees demons where there are merely shadows, and one who prefers not to risk even the slightest miscalculation with his sorties. Even now he rehearses for our impending hearing and his prospective promotion as if it is his execution," glancing sadly outside the window where said officer was pacing about the base, gesturing wildly to an absent audience.

"His cautiousness is not unfounded however. During the Toshima Incident, an engagement that nearly claimed Lieutenant Tōgō's, his, and my own life, he was forced to make a daring gamble that cost him dearly. Needless to say, Yonehara was keen to never ever make that mistake again."

The admiral paused and shared a glance with the silent lieutenant as he tried to forget that memory.

"When the admiralty assigned him to Sasebo, he immediately went to work improving the organization of resource storage there. The Naval Base had been the site of a particularly humiliating raid that left the port district defenseless a few years prior, and so with the help of Akashi and Yūbari he made sure that the stockpiles were so distributed that it would take an incredibly focused and persistent assault to effectively wipe them out."

"But...Ōyodo...I could have sworn that she told me a few days ago that the reports clearly indicated that they were unsalvageable."

"Yonehara's paranoia is to blame for that initial statement. As I mentioned earlier, he frequently reverts to a pessimistic outlook under duress. Having to co-direct the defenses of an entire naval district while the base commander is on sick leave is one such stressful situation. When the first set of explosions rocked Sasebo, he immediately assumed that his preventive measures had failed, and reported his conclusions to the JMSDF in such fatalistic terms. After several days of frantic firefighting and damage control however, it soon became apparent that his strategy _had_ worked-the fireballs he had seen were the losses of yet-to-be-stored fuel canisters that Hayasui and Irako had unloaded from their supply expedition earlier that morning. Likewise, most of the stockpiles he had prepared survived unscathed- the abyssals apparently for whatever reason lacked the resolve of their counterparts who wreaked havoc on Tokyo and Yokosuka, and thus began withdrawing at the sight of the first detonations."

"This is wonderful news!" Mikasa protested, glancing uncertainly at the three straight-faced officers. "But if that's the case, then why-?"

"Are we playing our hand so conservatively?" Goto finished. "Well, first of all a naval district's worth of resources isn't a feast. Maizuru Naval District's entire combat readiness remains unknown; all we know is that they got hit hard. Meanwhile, both Yokosuka and Kure lack stockpiles as a consequence of the abyssal attacks. Ideally, we could optimize consumption by using it to refuel and resupply destroyers, but a destroyer-only escort leaves much to be desired, especially considering that we're talking about the Seventh Fleet here. That's where Tenryū, Tatsuta, and Katsuragi come in. Tenryū and Tatsuta may be old destroyer leaders, but they've got the fight in them where it counts, Tenryū especially so. Katsuragi's similar in that she has a small appetite due to her weaker power plant, which means that she can sortie out without leaving a massive dent in our bauxite supplies. If you want a horror story, look at Ōyodo's spreadsheets after the Kidō Butai sorties," he shivered.

Akiyama raised a hand in objection and whispered something into the battleship's ear.

"With all due respect to Katsuragi's abilities, Admiral, shouldn't experience trump fuel efficiency," Mikasa translated, "Considering that this is aerial superiority we are talking about? I would understand liberties taken with surface combatants, but given the newer doctrine…"

"A fair concern. In this case however Katsuragi is better suited for the sortie. Abyssals operating in and around the Yellow Sea rarely deploy aircraft; in the case that they do, the Unryū-class carrier's new prototype planes should be more than enough to keep them pinned for the Akizuki sisters to finish them off. Besides, the more capital ships we deploy, the harder it becomes to hide our intentions."

"Hide our intentions? Are you saying that despite the fact this is a public military procession, _we're also supposed to be operating incognito_?"

"From the public no, but from the abyssals yes. Recent reconnaissance by Iku and I-401 here and Hachi in Sasebo indicates that the abyssals remain utterly oblivious to this new ace in our sleeves; enemy pickets are few and far between on shipping routes. It appears that for the moment that they are resting on their laurels, choosing to laze about heavens-know-where over sealing our fate. Until the allied convoys arrive we need to maintain the mask of desperation. Yonehara may have saved us once, but I would not count on his skills saving us a second time. That is in part the reason why you were selected to provide surface support; in addition to having extensive experience in the theater, you also leave behind a smaller supply signature," pointing at the rather undisturbed, half-full teapot on the table.

"Had I assigned Kongō to this role there wouldn't be a single tea leaf left from here to Korea. You on the other hand having been eating very little, and you also don't use bunker oil as fuel. Coal can be easily procured, in fact I believe Yonehara was in the process of setting up bunker facilities before departing for Yokosuka. My only concern is your speed."

Mikasa looked at him thoughtfully. "Well, I once did ask my crew to overtax my engines, and-"

"I know what you did, and you are never to do that again," Goto gave Mikasa a very stern look. "As much as I would appreciate you keeping pace with the Seventh Fleet and the other kanmusu who can pass thirty knots, combining Barrovian gusto with overstoking the engines will only lead to disaster. You are coal-powered; I need not go into the details of the risks associated with boiler explosions. According to Lieutenant Tōgō's and Akashi's calculations _under ideal circumstances_ can keep pace with Nagato's 25 knots, and unless you are in a life-and-death situation you are not exceed their recommendations. Losing a few knots over the others is a smaller loss than losing an entire battleship. If it makes you feel any better Katsuragi's in a similar situation."

The pre-dreadnought's annoyed facial expression made it very clear that she was _not_ feeling better at this prospect, but eventually bowed her head in surrender.

"Very well then," she sighed in defeat. "So what's the plan?"

"You will escort the Seventh Fleet out of Yokosuka and meet up with other elements of Seventh Fleet currently stationed at Sasebo," the Japanese admiral began as he produced a map and began outlining the proposed route. "While at Sasebo you will resupply; make sure to take generous helpings as there will be no depots for you in Korea. After meeting up with the kanmusu squadron patrolling Tsushima Island you will cross the strait," Goto tapped the label identifying the waterway for emphasis, "and make berth at Fusan, where the ROKN will be awaiting Stephens."

"The route from Sasebo to Busan will be especially dangerous," Stephens warned her. "The abyssals have a knack for passing through there in droves at the most inconvenient of times. In the chance we make contact, the Seventh Fleet will need all the screening and protection it can get from the kanmusu."

"My only objection is that we are heading to open sea," Mikasa traced her fingers repeatedly over the large blue body to the south of Shikoku. "Wouldn't it be safer and wiser to go through the Seto Sea to the north where we can hug the coast?"

"Stephens was concerned about that as well, however both the Diet and my superiors are insistent on the southern route, which brings us to the final stake the JMSDF has in this mission," Goto cleared his throat. "We still know very little about the abyssals responsible for this coordinated assault, and the fact that they could repeat such a feat anytime anywhere doesn't sit very well with us at all. Given abyssal tendencies to try and recreate twisted versions of history, the potential for a city bombing run is simply too high to ignore. The hope is that by combing the southern Japanese coasts we can find something, _anything_ , about their operations, and identify whether this Attack was a stroke of luck or an easily-conducted raid."

"So you're saying after all this time we still have no information about them _at all_?"

"Not one bit, except for this." Mikasa was presented a very grainy photo of a large banquet table floating ominously in an otherwise-empty ocean. A single, sickly streak of oil etched into it like a bear's territorial mark was the only indication that it wasn't random debris.

"Suzuya's floatplanes found it a few hundred kilometers from Kōzushima the evening afterwards, roughly on the same trajectory Amagi and her sisters last spotted abyssal aircraft over Sagami Bay."

"To think that such scandalous primitives would have the ability to dispense grief and misery at their fingertips," came Mikasa's embittered reply, flipping the image back and forth in deep distaste. "It appears that the image of abyssals as scantily-clad harpies whose best asset is seducing men is an overgeneralization."

"If only that were the case," Vice-Admiral Stephens sighed softly in agreement.

"I see that Lieutenant Tōgō gave you the wrong impression of the enemy with _that_ classified photo," Goto sighed in disapproval, causing Jukeini to momentarily break out of her impassive stupor, flinch, and then guiltily take sudden interest in Captain Yonehara's monologue outside.

"Pray, Mikasa," the Japanese admiral began rubbing his forehead methodically, "do tell me what exactly did Jukeini explained to you as the nature of our 'trouble on the high seas,' to use the newspapers' words?"

"Well, she didn't exactly say that they were strumpet-like good-for-nothings," Mikasa quickly began, eager to defend her friend's reputation. "Jukeini told me that they were, ah, not very good? Oh, and they also might be able to convince spirits like me to do bad things, somehow, though, now that I think about it, it doesn't make any sense-oh, thank you." Goto passed the battleship a manila folder as he stood up and began pacing the room in manner not unlike Yonehara's outside.

"It's been almost five years now since the abyssals started their attack on humanity, three since the papers called it 'the extermination of mankind', and eleven months since the fighting has down to the point we can call it a 'war' in the conventional sense. If the wild tales of rampaging black sperm whales harassing civilian shipping and causing the two greatest ferry disasters the world has seen in the 21st century are to believed, perhaps we've been at war for a decade, but I'd like to think the gates of hell were opened only in 2012."

"That said, it wasn't a spontaneous assault," Stephens amended. "In late December 2011 the United States Navy was bustling with rumors of warships being shadowed menacingly by ghostly figures who vanished into nothingness, despite frantic search efforts. Those conducting routine voyages swore up and down that their ships' targeting systems kept reporting inbound vessels _within spitting distance_ of themselves...but there was no one there. There wasn't any convincing evidence proving the existence of these figures and their shenanigans however, so naturally we shrugged it off as homesick hallucinations taken too far. It didn't really help matters either that one officer claimed that his command had nearly been overtaken by a _battleship_ of all things...up until that point the only nation still keeping battleships on the naval list was ourselves...as museum ships. The tipping came the following spring, at the tiny archipelago known as the Spratly Islands."

"They're a small island chain that anyone who even did so much as breathe the ocean sea could lay a claim to," Goto griped in explanation to the confused Mikasa. "That year was particularly chaotic as the PRC's military recent posturing provoked a free-for-all. The United States announced that they would be dispatching a peace-keeping fleet to the region and the PRC responded in kind. I'll leave it to your imagination how thick the tension was in the air."

"You sure do have a half-empty view of things back then, don't you?" the American smirked. Not that I blame you, considering that we not-so-subtly suggested that the JMSDF send some ships to join the fleet there. The standoff itself actually proved quite amiable, with both navies trading off salutes in passing. It was the return trip that the trouble started. The night the American fleet was due to return to Pearl Harbor a bad storm passed over, delaying their departure until the next morning. Just as the eye of the storm passed over, Chinese positions on Namyit Island suddenly came under an intense burst of fire. No one was hurt, but it triggered an unresolvable diplomatic incident. The Chinese insisted that since it came from the Navy's position we did it, while the American admiral in charge of the mission frankly demanded who in their right mind would try and start a war with mainland China right then and there. That's when the hazy evidence that had been collected proved...interesting. It appeared that a _battlecruiser_ , per the radar cross-sections taken, had been at fault. Seeing how similar the evidence lined up to early crazy reports... "

"...the navies in the Pacific attempted to conduct a massive joint operation, and failed?"

"No, that came later," Stephens smiled weakly.

"And with significant liberties taken with the events to turn it into, as you would say in the United States, a 'B-list movie,'" Goto added. "These hellish fiends dared not provoke us into a 'decisive battle.' Not even once. In fact, at the beginning it seemed like we had been overreacting and declaring war on the ocean," he mused, a false bored voice overtaking his tone. "Every time one of these things was spotted (which was a rare coincidence, and if they did it was in groups of one or two lagging far behind the vessel in question) they would be destroyed swiftly and without incident. Most of the time the corpses would sink back into the depths before they could be studied, but the one that did seemed disturbingly normal. It was a single I-class destroyer (not that we would call it that at the time) which bled red, and whose remains did nothing except lie inanimately where it had washed up ashore. One correspondent, who had connections with the JMSDF and knew what was going on, lampooned the Navy as becoming hypermilitaristic and seeking nonexistent threats as an excuse to go on an imperialistic adventure."

"That correspondent was proven quite wrong quite quickly however. Small islands in Polynesia, deep sea oil rigs off the Gulf of Mexico and the North Sea went quiet that autumn, and research stations in Antarctica and the Arctic were unusually still. Any and all attempts to communicate with them fell silent. Surveillance quickly discovered these monsters as being at the heart of it. Believing this to be the last gasp of whatever had been the wild imaginations of sailors everywhere, the international decision was made to begin a sweep everywhere at once by small well-experienced detachments. The expectation was that even a motley force of auxiliary and all-out warships could easily disperse any unsightly congregation they came across. Vice-Admiral Stephens, myself, and some elements from the ROKN as well from the USN fleet at Pearl Harbor, were ordered to Minamidaitō Island to smoke out the hostile installations discovered there."

"And so it all began," Stephens smiled weakly. "What had begun as an easy victory for the papers turned into the greatest bloodbath of all time."

"Removing the hostile elements off the Okinawa island proved painfully simple. A day's worth of shelling and combing by American and Japanese marines freed the island from abyssal control. Our greatest fear came from the ghostly form of a Yamato-class battleship bearing down on us, captained by a sole, pale wicked figure, but even the famous super-dreadnought buckled under the wrath of modern technology."

"But then she came back later that evening."

"And then at night."

"And then at midnight."

"Again and again and again, looking more crazed every time she bore down upon us. The ship itself that she was captaining looked spanking clean as if she had left the yard in that very moment, and soaked up damage like one too."

"I kept count," Stephens wagged a warning finger. "We sank her nine times. Nine times, and she kept coming back."

"And then she brought back a dreadnought who kept hammering at us."

"And then that dreadnought brought friends, who kept coming back too even when we sunk their ships heavens know how many times."

"They weren't afraid. They knew what we could do, what we were capable of, but they kept _pushing._ The only thing stopping them was the very act of sinking, but even then they kept clawing and crawling towards us in the water."

"And then we discovered that she had been but a distraction, and that _another fleet_ had maneuvered about us in the darkness to take up positions against us."

"We actually did a good job defending by my reckoning," Goto rubbed his chin. "I think we had the upper hand for most of the evening, even though we started running low on ammunition after the endless fighting. It's clear that they tried taking a page from our book and fight us according to what we could _not_ take according to modern battle tactics, but even so we outplayed them fair and square. If it hadn't been for _that…_ "

"For what?" Mikasa interrupted.

"Ah, yes, _that_...we still haven't found her wreckage yet…" Stephens shook his head sadly. "They detonated one of the nuclear submarines we had depl-"

 _"_ _Nuclear_ submarines?!"

"Yes, the abyssals hit her-"

"You mean powered ships with the same things that could wipe cities off this planet?!"

"It was considered innovative and fuel-efficient. Many modern submarines use the technology. You can imagine the consequences of an accident, however. We were fortunate that only two ships were affected by the ensuing pressure wave, but nevertheless…"

"The whole world seemed to have gone still in that moment. Everyone, friend and foe, turned to look at the massive plume of water that was sent sky-high at the submarine's destruction, and then it was over. The abyssals _knew_ it could be done, and attacked us with renewed vigor. We tried to withdraw, but with every growing distance we put between ourselves and Minamidaitō more and more of them swarmed at our heels. Any ship that became too damaged or fell behind...was destroyed. I can only hope the stragglers suffered a painless death. We split up in an attempt to maximize the number of survivors. The Pearl Harbor detachment intended to go east and then south towards the Philippines, the Koreans to Jeju Island, Stephens to Yokosuka, and my squadron to Sasebo. Only Stephens and I made it back to port."

"Our only solace was that we were not the only ones to experience defeat, Mikasa. In fact for the next year there would be no victories for mankind anywhere. What could be done? If the Navy organized the fleet into battle it would be defeated before it was even conceived, with its comprising ships being sunk before they could even set out to sea. Any remaining vessel foolish enough to make way was promptly sent to the bottom. As industrious as the PRC, Russia, or ourselves are, there is only so much we can do to recover our losses before costs and time take over. They knew it as well as we did, and took full advantage of it. Half of Indonesia and the remaining Polynesian Islands fell to the abyssals as they developed a taste for amphibious warfare. The English Channel became the English Noose, as the demons camped on the Channel Islands and pillaged the North Sea. The Florida Keys were taken by that winter. Hawaii was a hot potato, alternating between being American and abyssal territory as the USN reinvented island hopping. A daring invasion launched in Northern China encircled and came within inches of seizing Tianjin and Nanjing; for months there were talks of nothing but about the hundreds of abyssals swarming the Yellow Sea, who seemed to campaigning for nothing less than the extermination of humanity."

"Yet it did not come; we found hope. The Koreans were the first to regain their spirit when Won Seol took an insane gamble and ordered a 'fighting retreat' of the ROKN's remnants from Jeju to Seoul, saving the capital without the loss of a single vessel. The Chinese Premier's vows that 'he was not Chiang Kai-Shek' and that the government would not flee to Sichuan encouraged popular resistance, leading to a stalemate and eventual withdrawal of abyssals from most of Northern China. However, as with our own resource situation, they are but fortunate strokes of luck. The only force that has consistently assured our survival is you," Goto finished, staring at Mikasa dead in the eye. "You ship girls. Whenever and wherever you have returned, come hell or high water, mankind has either dealt a devastating blow in defeat or returned home victorious."

 _But why?_

The more and more the battleship thought about it, the less Goto's comment made sense. She refused to believe that these _creatures,_ these _monsters_ , who dared challenged the seas, could wreak havoc and terror on humanity without an ounce of resistance. The Sea was the domain of ships and marine life, no one else. Yet, from the sounds of it, these abyssals and ship spirits were of the same blood. But why were ship spirits such as herself so effective against these things? There were only three things Mikasa felt she could without a doubt fear, and that was other ships, nature, and mankind. Abyssals were none of these.

"You're hiding something from me," she said carefully, studying every inch of his face.

"What makes you think that?" Goto's head shot up in confusion.

"You told me _why_ abyssals are a problem, but not _what_ they are."

Immediately Jukeini, Vice-Admiral Stephens, and Goto shifted about with renewed vigor.

 _Bullseye._

"If you asked me that question a year ago, I could honestly tell you that I did not know. The press was certainly running amok with conspiracy theories, from 'genetic super soldiers' to 'aliens' to 'Mother Nature.' However…"

* * *

More Notes:

I've been trying to imply through the past few main-storyline chapters that, contrary to initial claims, Admiral's abyssal allies (i.e. those who attacked everywhere except Yokosuka) did a poor job of attacking and left the possibility open that they hadn't actually cleaned out the kanmusu stores (which they didn't). Admiral got wind of it at the same time Yonehara sent out his modified report to Goto, but was (and probably still is) in denial that her greatest plan did not entirely succeed due to some idiotic overconfident abyssal. Goto on the otherhand decided to give his old friend a cookie and recommended him for promotion (more on that and their backstories the next chapter).

Stephens's note is genuine: **there will be American shipgirls in the main story,** and if I can write and post fast enough hopefully they will appear by the end of the year.


	35. Dreams and Nightmares: The Poor Devils

**AN:** Was planning to post this almost a week earlier, but deadlines and surprise food poisoning stopped me. Next in queue: recap of some points lost from being behind 2 months in posting, and the next chapter where the ball gets rolling by its end.

* * *

"You told me _why_ abyssals are a problem, but not _what_ they are."

Immediately Jukeini, Vice-Admiral Stephens, and Goto shifted about with renewed vigor.

 _Bullseye._

"If you asked me that question a year ago, I could honestly tell you that I did not know. The press was certainly running amok with conspiracy theories, from 'genetic super soldiers' to 'aliens' to 'Mother Nature.' However…"

Goto sighed in defeat and stopped pacing about the room to search his filing cabinet.

"Last summer there was an unusual disturbance near the Solomon Islands at Ironbottom Sound. It appeared that something terrible had emerged, and was preparing to restart the bloody campaign that gave the sound its name. A fleet was sent to investigate, and for reasons that remain unknown (unfortunately due to a certain heavy cruiser's tendency to lavishly decorate her stories with fanciful imaginings such as 'equipment destroying water' and 'waterfalls from hell') the special type destroyer Fubuki proved instrumental in defeating her. This is the destroyer Fubuki," he handed her a photograph of a brunette with large hazel eyes, "and this is what was found there," placing the second image onto the table.

"Is that-?"

"Abyssal Princess. Fubuki. Abyssal Princess. Fubuki."

"It's a perfect match," Mikasa whispered. "But are you sure?"

"If you aren't convinced, then here's another of a Wo-class carrier. It was taken by the PLAN during an abyssal air raid on Shanghai during the opening days of the war. I believe you are familiar with the person in question."

Even with pale white hair and missing blue ribbon she knew exactly who 'the person' was.

 _"My service is littered with mistakes and regrets, which I will not shame you by retelling them. I have been trying to redeem myself these past few years."_

"Oh, Kaga…Kaga..." The carrier's introductory apology suddenly made more sense…

"She didn't have any recollection of it. Her actions at the time that is. Neither of them do. It's like a fuzz, Kaga once stated, a passing thought where you feel heavier and heavier and then…" Goto snapped his fingers.

"So all of these monsters….they're _us?_ "

"Based on our observations here and in the Atlantic it's our best guess," came the soft sigh as the Yokosukan admiral extended an arm to prop himself against his desk. "How or why they're so vengeful likewise remains unknown. If it's the case...I'm sorry to say that you might find yourself facing old friends one day."

Mikasa pulled her hair back and gazed sadly on at the morose image before her.

"The poor devils."

"Poor devils?" Goto repeated in confusion to no avail. Mikasa's eyes continued to silently linger over the abyssalified form her quiet friend.

"Is there anything that can be done, to save them from themselves?"

"Sink them."

"That is how the cycle began for many," he continued softly, not once daring to look into her bewildered eyes. "With a traumatic act. From what Fubuki explained the process tries the soul, fragmenting it. The feelings that dominate survive and suppress the other, which depending upon the exact emotions can lead to a spirit returning as a shipgirl...or as an abyssal. Reconstitution into a physical form could take days, or even decades, as she waits for the Moment to jolt her into action. It's a cyclical ritual; a ship girl who sinks can return as an abyssal, or vice versa. Therefore, the only way to defeat the abyssals-"

"Is to kill them all," she finished, her face growing grimmer with every pacing second..

There was a momentary silence as Goto let Mikasa process his statement, which was punctuated by Yonehara's occasional outbursts outside and the steady crescendo of Jukeini's finger rapping.

"Tell me, Admiral, are you aware that all ships, including the ones outside on the docks," jerking her head at the steel hulls of Kongō's (the missile destroyer) colleagues, "have spirits?"

"We are," Stephens winced, "but we've been given a gag order."

"Why?"

"If the public knows that it's possible for their saviors to become villains at the drop of a hat, how do you think they'll respond? There was already hysteria enough about the first appearance of ship girls as an 'abyssal fifth column' _before_ we discovered this tidbit of information. It certainly didn't help matters that the defeated Central and Axis powers got their ship girls back first before the Allies did. The press was amuck with 'Hot Nazi Zombies Plotting New Third Reich' for weeks before Prinz Eugen finally calmed them down." Goto bristled at that last statement. "No one wants to give naysayers and conspiracy theorists anymore ideas. The JMSDF has been called upon to put down kanmusu cults more than once."

"But if you keep building new ships you are summoning new spirits into existence," Mikasa pressed, "and if they are forced into this living hell that is fighting against their ancestors unchecked, you're just bound to make abyssals."

"Unfortunately that is not how our superiors or the governments see it," Stephens sighed. "It's becoming rather apparent that there will be a time, however brief, with no abyssals. The annihilation of all standing conventional fleets have left opportunities for upstarts to fill the vacuum, and there is now a international mad rush to build as many steel hulls as financially possible to assert naval dominance for when this day comes. Slowing down means losing out on the race."

"There is also scorn for the possibility of modern ships coming back as abyssals," Goto cleared his throat. "Due to the nature of abyssal engagements. Currently the most prominent and problematic demons aren't from World War II but in fact from The Great War. It appears that the hundred years they've had to stew over their disappoints and failures have done nothing but to stoke their hatreds, and hell hath no fury nor persistence like an enraged dreadnought. That they can summon World War II ship spirits to join their campaign is just the cherry on top. Their newer counterparts are even more ferocious due to their ideological beliefs at the cost of their resolve. We've had tremendous success reasoning with and restoring the latter's faith in humanity to the point many have returned as ship girls. The World War I shipgirls on the other hand," he merely shook his head.

"No luck?"

"We've sent out hundreds of requests through prayers and made offerings at the shrines of their namesakes and birthplaces. No one cut up under orders of the Washington Naval Treaty has returned."

"If the dreadnoughts are causing trouble," Mikasa pondered concernedly, "then what about the Age of Sail-"

"Judging by the fact we only have a handful among our navies and the ship girls haven't spotted many (if any) others in hostile encounters, there does not appear to be an age maximum. However some deterrent prevents the seas from being overrun with galleys, junks, and heaven knows what else," Goto replied. "What exactly no one has figured out yet. Perhaps the older spirits know their potential is past its prime; perhaps enough time has elapsed for them to come to terms with the circumstances of their death. Regardless the abyssals don't seem so keen on deploying them, or modern vessels for that matter.

The abyssals appear to play their hand according to escalation: anything we field, they match, and vice versa. It's a game that two can play and be happy with a stalemate: no one wants to deal with the possibility of missile warships turned into demonic humanoids, and the abyssals seem pretty content to call the shots with World War I and World War II ships."

"It seems easy to say, but difficult to prove," the battleship pursed her lips in disapproval. "I fear that it will take the transformation of an otherwise-harmless missile cruiser as she sleeps at her moorings for my concerns to be heeded."

"While that is a valid concern, there is no precedent for such a metamorphosis. Based on our present information, only ships who sank or were scrapped in their careers are at risk."

"So you got my brain up in knots over fears of turning into some perverted man-eating monster for nothing, eh?" Mikasa smirked with an ever-growing smile that threatened to break out into an uncontrolled laugh. "Fortunately, I've never sunk."

 _CR-BUMP!_

Lieutenant Tōgō straightened up from her slouch so quickly that she nearly punched a hole in Goto's desk with her knees.

"Is something the matter, Jukeini?"

"No, no, nothing!" the officer said quickly. "Just impressed by your comment that's all!"

"Don't frighten me like that next time," Mikasa reprimanded, wagging a scolding finger in the lieutenant's direction. "You _almost_ made me thing I've sunk. Fortunately I have a memory as good as my resolve," she pointed at her own forehead before bowing her head down submissively. "You need not worry about where my loyalties lie, Admiral Goto, Vice-Admiral Stephens. It will always be with mankind."

Goto and Stephens covertly sent guarded glances at the alarmed Jukeini before returning their gaze to the black-haired kanmusu.

"Very well, Mikasa. I trust in your judgment. The Seventh Fleet and the kanmusu squadron will leave in a few days. However, before you do, I have an additional assignment for you," Goto's gaze bore down upon the bluish-black object upon the battleship's head. "Japan has been abuzz over the possibility of your return, and the Prime Minister has agreed to a press conference to buoy public morale before you leave. I have been informed to remind you to express good conduct as fitting of the Navy, and to be on guard. More than one ship girl has caused a problematic stir with their media debut."

"I have and always will be respectable in my conduct and careful in my deliberations," she replied as her officers hustled the crew on board, sensing that the meeting was reaching its end. "If it would put your mind at ease I could consult Lieutenant Tōgō on the proper etiquette."

"As infamous as she is for her immaturity I agree that Jukeini will be of help to you," he agreed, his eyes still not leaving Mikasa's cap that had unrepentantly announced its return to its place atop her head. "Especially in getting you up to speed with international affairs."

"I don't follow," she frowned, taking off her old IJN cap to examine it in close detail. "It's just Navy attire."

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Stephens nodded, "but it won't only be Japanese reporters at the conference. Journalists from China and Korea will be in attendance, and while they're extremely excited at the prospect of meeting you...just be careful not to open old wounds. Japan's past relationships with both countries are still sore points."

" _Extremely_ sore points," Goto chimed in, answering Mikasa's question before she could speak. "It's true that at present we have a relatively amiable relationship with both Chinese governments and South Korea. Trends overseas are eagerly consumed here, and they follow our pop culture quite closely. However, every time one of their military operations makes the news, whether it's good or bad, a grim wave of bitterness radiates through public opinion. After all this time, while we're getting back kanmusu left and right, they still have none. Both the ROK and PRC have been forced to brute force anti-abyssal sorties with their conventional navies. To make matters worse that's unlikely to change, especially for the former. In order to have an effective ship girl operation task force, you need to have constructed ships from the First or Second World War in the first place-"

"And since we occupied the peninsula during that time they have none."

"It is, to use my earlier phrase an 'extreme sore point,'" the Japanese admiral simply nodded. "Ship girls are a nation's pride and joy in this day and age. To know that you have been deprived of a heroic fighting force due to your neighbor's past actions is...a truly agonizing revelation, to say the least, which brings me to one final warning, Mikasa: No heroics. This will be the first time that kanmusu are entering Korean waters for military operations, and doing so brings back bad memories of our military aggression of old. You are to _help_ the Koreans, _not_ save them. The ROKN doesn't ask or require anything more of you than escorting the American Seventh Fleet to safety; they insist and are capable of doing the reminder. The last thing we admirals need is news of a heroic victory at your hands. Japanese nationalists will latch onto it as a shining example of how incompetent Korea is and why they need our help, while Korean nationalists will accuse of us of attempting to conduct a new form of imperialism. If by some unfortunate circumstance all three navies are caught up in an intense firefight follow Stephens's command to the letter, nothing more, nothing less. That is an order. Am I clear?"

"Understood," Mikasa stood up and saluted. "I will see to it that I address our allies delicately and politely in both dress and speech. Until then...Good Morning."

Goto waited to make sure the battleship had closed the door and completely left the office before speaking.

"I wonder if it was a good idea to avoid mentioning what happened to Iowa and Saratoga, Mac."

"Was it really a good idea chalking abyssal spookiness to bad karma, Arima?" Stephens retorted evenly. "With no disrespect to Fubuki's after-action report, you and I both have seen the number of abyssal heavy cruisers and battleships _never_ matches up with the number Japan or the United States ever fielded in their lifetime. And then there are claims of abyssal laboratories where prisoners of war are _experimented_ up-"

"I'll take my chances with the mounting evidence in favor of Fubuki's hypothesis, even though Aoba and Akigumo's ridiculous explanation seemed like a cartoon-worthy production," he shot back stiffly. "Every single princess, war demon, or whatever other fancy titles they come up for themselves before they go to the bottom bears an uncanny resemblance to ship girls, especially _prominent_ ship girls. Might I remind you that Iowa, who I commend on her indomitable soul and unsunken record, was discovered as a Fast Battleship Princess off Truk? Or that last fall Saratoga was rediscovered at Bikini Atoll as the 'Jellyfish Princess' _in the exact same position as she had been during the atomic tests?"_

"You could, but even I had spoken up I couldn't have given you an honest explanation for that incident at all. The Admiralty's still in knots trying to figure out what exactly happened to them that spring day last year. One moment they were escorting Japanese merchantmen to Nagasaki, the next," Stephens snapped his fingers. "Gone, without a trace."

"But we know how it ends," Goto folded his arms. "And the damage is lasting. Iowa was never the same afterwards, was she?"

"From what Ernie told me," the American admiral sighed in defeat, "even with all the repairs and refits her personality has changed dramatically. But what good would all this damning evidence, that the abyssals somehow, someway figured out how to corrupt a spirit's soul to their own designs do? Nothing about Iowa's or even Saratoga's transformation makes sense."

"Nor does Mikasa's. The Iowa sisters didn't make the transition from spirits into ship girls until they were literally on the verge of death. Mikasa flipped by reading a newspaper. Let me repeat that last sentence. At what could have been her nation's darkest hour since the bombing runs of World War II her resolve remained untested, but all it took was some editor's humbugs to make her want to fight for us?"

Both men looked at each other anxiously before Goto finally calmed down.

"Perhaps you were right not to tell her," he conceded, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "The revelation that after all this time the abyssals still have so many aces up their sleeves could have shattered her resolve to come back."

"Come back? Admiral Goto, are you thinking that Mikasa will _sink_ during this operation, under my command?"

"With no offense intended at your luck Stephens, I must keep an open mind. You know it happens at least once every month. Submarine attacks, battles where we cannot win without sacrifice, overconfidence on the ship girl's part...the only reason they come back to us after sinking several times is because of the resolve in their hearts at the time of their destruction. That's what Prinz Eugen said in her speech to the world, no? 'I am here to right my country's wrongdoings, and atone for them. And I will do so even if I feel the entire earth bearing down upon me.' Any doubt, any fear that threatens their state of mind upon 'death' can take hold and turn them into our enemy. Sometimes it makes the job of being a commander within the kanmusu program the most awful assignment in the world. You can spend years trying to apprehend an abyssal responsible for wanton death and destruction only to discover the purest and most adorable heart on the other side. The worst thing is that they don't remember their existence as the other, so you have to find some way to reconcile the fact that the innocent sweet child before you was likely once a merciless mass-murder who slaughtered people for fun in her spare time. What do you think, Lieutenant Tōgō?"

"Lieutenant Tōgō?"

The officer continued staring blankly at the doors Mikasa had closed.

"She doesn't remember," Jukeini said softly.

"Doesn't remember?" Goto's foul mood returned. "What do you mean she doesn't remem-"

She merely rapped her fingers on his desk for emphasis.

"You've got to be joking, Jukeini."

"She didn't bring up the Treaty of Portsmouth and the civilian response either when Vice-Admiral Stephens asked about her past experiences with Americans. In fact, I've never heard her talk about the treaty or its provisions _at all_. It fits almost perfectly like a glove."

" _That_ happened more than one-hundred years ago, Lieutenant Tōgō. Besides, she was not by any means a kanmusu when we found her while you were unconscious in the hospital."

"Then why can't she remember? She can remember her childhood as clear day, but the moment you start asking about things around _that_ her memory goes fuzzy."

"I don't have an answer for that."

There was a low agonized groan followed by a reluctant sigh.

"We have no room nor time for complacency. We'll watch her closely."

* * *

Side note: Goto wasn't telling Mikasa not to wear the IJN cap, he was simply warning her to be careful with what she says if the subject is broached at her international press conference. From what I can gather (and if the reason behind why Mikasa's nameplate was removed from WOWS is any indication) the IJN is still a pretty touchy political subject from Koreans and the Chinese-if I recall correctly there was a motion in South Korea to have the Rising Sun flag banned despite it being used by the JMSDF. She'll still be wearing it.

ROCN and shipgirls: This was implied by the wording, but to make it more explicit they do have shipgirls (the PLAN currently does not)- as a gesture of goodwill Yukikaze volunteered, so she's both a fleet favorite within the ROCN as well as the JMSDF's representative in the region. Some postwar American deals to the ROCN (including Benson) have also agreed to the same terms and conditions (they'll serve the U.S. when needed but their primary duties and service is with the ROC).


End file.
